


The Boy Who Squibed

by ficfanfoom7



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-14
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-22 12:14:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 49,758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30038538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ficfanfoom7/pseuds/ficfanfoom7
Summary: When the first-year class of 1991 began their education at Hogwarts it was without the addition of one notable Wizard: Harry Potter. Picture a world where Harry is born as a squib. How might time at a muggle school change him? Will he be more or less prepared when he finally gets pulled back into the Wizarding World? Read and find out.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Harry Potter
Comments: 2
Kudos: 13





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Special thanks to ACreativeMindAtWorkHere on ff.net for being the beta reader for this project.

The following is a nonprofit fan-based parody all rights reserved to JK Rowling. Please support the official releases.

# Chapter 1

Dumbledore stared incredulously at the page in front of him, his mind refusing to accept what it was thinking. In some vain attempt to rationalize what he was seeing he began to review the series of events that led up to this moment. 

It started a few days ago when he was finalizing the list of students that would be starting their first year this coming September. A task that he had become so accustomed to that he barely gave the list a second look after skimming through it, and quickly gave it his signature approving the process. His mind had been otherwise occupied from receiving his friend Nicholas’s letter about his fears that someone was after the Sorcerer's Stone. 

The next day Dumbledore had been reading through the returned messages of all the students’ parents gleefully accepting the invitation for their child to attend the renowned school of witchcraft and wizardry. As he read through and marked each one he found one absent that while disappointing was nonetheless expected. 

Harry Potter’s missing acceptance letter made Dumbledore think back to the night he dropped the boy off at his aunt and uncle’s place. He had known that the boy would not have the best upbringing, him being aware of Petunia Dursley nee Evans’ lingering jealousy and resentment for her sister, but, by being at his relative’s house young Harry would have the most profound protection that magic could offer.

The wards powered by Lily’s motherly sacrifice were so strong that they had rebounded the killing curse, a spell that was thought to be completely unblockable except by a large amount of dense matter. Not only that but the ward could hide the boy from anyone seeking him out with harmful intent and, if Dumbledore had read her notes right, would even make touching the boy have deadly consequences for Voldemort himself, not that Dumbledore believed they would stick.

So yes, Dumbledore knew the young boy would have a hard upbringing, but he also had great faith in the boy’s resilience. He believed that the boy had the potential to stand against the world’s hardships and come out of it a shining light to push back the darkness that would threaten his generation, and finally bring a true end to Voldemort’s reign of terror.

Given his faith in the boy Dumbledore quickly stood to look at the accounts book he kept on his bookshelf, he fully intended to quickly confirm the boy's address before planning a bit of a prank on the stubborn family too, hopefully, help them make the right choice. Dumbledore calmly pulled out the thick tome which recorded the students whose accounts for tuition were pre-paid by trusts in their families' names before placing it on the nearby lectern and having it open itself to the P section with a casual wave of his hand.

Slowly savouring the feeling of running his finger down the list Dumbledore read through the names of the incoming students, passing by Parkinson, Patil, Perks, and others until finally, he froze upon his arrival at the Potter name.

Each student’s name had been written in a glittering golden ink to show that their accounts were active with the school. The name of the Boy-Who-Lived, however, was not only dull and black, appearing to be written with mundane ink, but it also was marked through with a line. Dumbledore couldn’t believe it as he slowly looked over to the notes section to see the explanation. Each word was like a nail in the coffin of his once bright hope for the future.

The entry read, “Account cancelled, no magical ability detected in the candidate, Squib status recorded and sent to the ministry.”

As if it had been rehearsed it was at that moment that the fireplace behind Dumbledore flared up with spectral green flames and a panicked voice rang out from the fire.

“DUMBLEDORE,” the voice of Minister Fudge called out, “DUMBLEDORE, TELL ME THIS IS A MISTAKE. WHY AM I LOOKING AT A DOCUMENT SAYING HARRY POTTER IS A SQUIBB?”

But Dumbledore couldn’t hear him, too shocked by what he was seeing. ‘Could the prophecy be wrong?’ he wondered but he knew that was impossible. They were the words of a true seer, and those words could never be invalidated. They were fixed points in the fabric of the universe, if a prophecy were somehow invalidated reality would cease to be.

It was then as he was thinking about the prophecy and what this new revelation would entail that a startling realization came to Dumbledore’s mind.

Voldemort, the single most zealous advocate for magical supremacy in history, had unknowingly marked a squib as his equal. The “Dark Lord” had cosmically declared that he was on even footing with someone unable to use magic.

When this thought crystallized in his mind Dumbledore could do nothing but laugh and laugh and laugh. His mirth grew to the point of hysterics until he had to grab onto the lectern or else he would have collapsed to the floor. He continued to laugh for nearly 30 minutes, with tears falling down his face the entire time.

* * *

Harry Potter was experiencing a very complex mix of emotions at the moment. On the one hand, he was finally free from the Dursley’s clutches, on the other, he was on his way to Stonewall High, a school rumoured to house only the roughest of children that no one else wanted.

Harry had never enjoyed much of life. His parents having died before he could truly remember them, he had grown up with an Aunt and Uncle that were not happy to have him in their home, and they were sure to remind Harry of how generous they were to even allow him the comforts that he had.

The most disconcerting thing about his home life however was how his Aunt and Uncle seemed to treat Harry like a primed explosive that could explode at any minute. Oftentimes Harry would catch his Aunt staring at him as if she were just waiting for him to do something, The one time that he had worked up the courage to ask her what she wanted her only response was that she was making sure he wasn’t a freak like his mother. When he asked for more information, eager to learn something about his parents other than that they were useless drunks who died in a car crash, she seemed to snap out of her state and scolded him for wasting time and not doing his chores. 

Given this home environment, Harry was happy to be free of the abusive atmosphere and bullying he received, but at the same time, he was nervous that all he had to look forward to was more of the same, just from his schoolmates and teachers instead of his family. Whatever the future may hold Harry decided that he would just do what he always did. Roll with the punches and hope for something better in the future.

Feeling a bubble of impatience in his stomach Harry began to get a little antsy and peered around the bus he found himself on, scratching absently at the spots where his ill-fitting and cheaply dyed homemade uniform chaffed on his skin. The bus wasn’t anything remarkable; it had picked him up from the train station he had arrived at after his trip from Little Whinging. And would supposedly drop him off at the entrance to the school.

He hoped at least, Uncle Vernon had given him the instructions he was supposed to follow only once and said,

“If you forget and get lost that is your own fault. I still expect to not see you until next summer.”

Luckily, while on the train, Harry had happened to spot a small group of older boys in what appeared to be grey uniforms as well, though none of theirs appeared homemade, so Harry had decided to keep his eye on them and follow where they went, for better or worse.

It was because he had been watching the group that he noticed they appeared to be grabbing their things and preparing to disembark from the bus. So Harry followed suit. A few minutes later the bus driver announced

“Stonewall High, next stop, Stonewall High”

When he heard the call Harry stood and followed the older boys off the bus, as he walked down the centre aisle the nervousness about his future began to win over the other emotions boiling in his stomach, but still Harry soldiered on, knowing that even if he were to return to Privet Drive he would just be back here within the same day.

Stepping off the bus Harry finally got a good look at his home for at least the next 11 months. Stonewall high did not have a very welcoming appearance. The squat building was constructed with cinder blocks that had been whitewashed. It had a large, square-shaped central building with several wings built off to the sides. All of the windows were high off the ground and had what looked like chain-link fencing placed over them. The grounds consisted of a mowed lawn with a couple of basketball hoops placed near one of the wings, and the entire complex was encircled by a tall fence made of similar chain-link material to what covered the windows. Everything appeared to be made in the most cost-effective way with the most cost-effective materials as anyone would probably expect from a state-run school.

In Harry’s mind, the only thing he could compare it to would be a prison he had been brought to by Uncle Vernon one summer when he was trying to show Harry where disobedience would land him. He had been five at the time and had asked why he was given so many chores and Dudley was given so few.

In front of the entryway, a plastic table had been set up with a piece of paper taped to the front that read “First-year student check-in.” Behind the table sat a man dressed in a white polo shirt with black pants reading a newspaper that sat folded up on the table.

Harry cautiously approached the table before softly calling out to the man, who hadn’t yet looked up from his reading.

“Excuse me, sir,” Harry said, “I am here to check-in.”

“Name” the man abruptly replied.

“Harry sir, Harry Potter,” Harry replied.

The man slid a binder over to himself that had been sitting to the side of his newspaper. Running his fingers down the tabs sticking out of the side of the binder. He flipped it open to the P section and then ran his finger down the list of student names until he arrived at the name Harry Potter. He then pulled out a pen and checked next to the name indicating that the student in question was accounted for. 

“Wait here one moment until a staff member comes to take you to your dormitory,” The man explained.

He then reached into a crate of folders on the ground next to his seat and pulled out a packet of papers. 

Handing the papers to Harry he continued, 

“Here is your student handbook, calendar, and map. After leaving your stuff in your dorm you will be brought to the auditorium where the headmaster will give the student body a welcome speech, which will be followed by dinner then time for you to finish unpacking before lights out at 10:00. Any questions?” 

Harry paused to sort through all of the information that had just been spewed at him. When he finally had a question picked out another man walked up in similar clothing and began talking to Harry.

“Hello,” he said in a friendly voice, “My name is Mr Thomas, and I’m here to take you to your dorm.”

“Ok,” Harry said, unable to think of any other response.

As they walked Mr Thomas explained how to read the schedule in Harry’s hand and he pointed out the important buildings that they passed.

“The main building, where I picked you up, houses the classrooms, auditorium, cafeteria, and offices. Meals are served at 7:30 AM, 12:30 PM, and 5:30 PM sharp, the kitchens are closed otherwise. There is also a small commissary for you to spend any pocket money you may have if you want extra snacks. Over there is the gymnasium where you will have your P.E classes, and here is the dormitory.”

Mr Thomas finished his description of the grounds right as they arrived at another large white-washed building.

“Each of the student years has its own wing where you will find your bunk as well as your water closet and showers. Here I will drop you off so you can meet your classmates and start unpacking your things. Someone will be back at 5:00 to pick you all up and take you to the auditorium for the welcoming speech by the headmaster. After which dinner will be served at 5:30 as I said before. Do you have any questions?”

Harry was silent. The man spoke in a friendly tone but he spat out information in the most efficient way possible, making Harry feel like he didn’t actually want a conversation to take place even though his voice might make you think otherwise.

After standing for a short time and hearing no response to the prompt Mr Thomas smiled and nodded, apparently pleased with himself, and said,

“Alright then, go on in and find your bunk, your wing is the first on the left. There is a big 1 painted on the door so you can’t miss it.”

Then, his piece said, he turned sharply and walked back to the main building. Harry hadn’t noticed earlier but as the man walked away he seemed to move with a certain stiffness that Harry had only seen once before when the neighbours down the street had welcomed their son home for the holidays. The son had been serving in the military and he walked just like Mr Thomas did when he first arrived back home.

Harry didn’t give it much of a second thought and instead focused on the new dread that was climbing up his throat that the thought of meeting his future classmates. In his mind, he could already see a group of fat, Dudley-like boys ready to start a new round of Harry hunting. But regardless, Harry swallowed the anxiety down and marched up to the doors of his home for the foreseeable future.

* * *

Mr Thomas had been right about his wing being easy to find. It had actually stood out because of how quiet it was compared to the other wings. Out of each wing's doors, you could hear groups of boys loudly greeting friend groups they had missed over the summer. The first year’s dorm, however, was very quiet. Other than the sound of clothes being unpacked only a few quiet conversations were happening.

Harry looked on the front of the packet he had been handed and found a label that said, 

> Potter, Harry James
> 
> First Year
> 
> Bunk 19 

Looking up again he then noticed that the bunk beds he saw around himself had numbers hanging from the foot of each top and bottom bunk. From where he was standing in the door he saw to his right bunks 1 and 2 and his left bunk 3 and 4. Doing the math in his head he estimated where his bunk would be and began to walk briskly through the room.

As he went he began to eye the other students he passed just as they had started eyeing him. Luckily, The nightmare scenario that Harry had concocted in his mind hadn’t become a reality. While most of the boys he saw were indeed bigger than he was, Harry didn’t see any that were as rotund as his cousin and uncle were. However even though nobody matched the physical characteristics of his previous tormentors, Harry could see some worrying amounts of distrust and contempt in some of the eyes he happened to meet as he walked by the other beds.

Finally, after passing through the gauntlet of stares, He arrived at his assigned bunk only to find another boy already there knelt next to the bed digging around in his bag with a trunk opened in front of him. At first, the boy didn’t seem to notice Harry, too engrossed in his current task. After a few seconds, Harry cleared his throat in an attempt to get the boy’s attention.

Upon making the sound the other boy immediately shot to his feet and turned around. For a few tense moments, the two boys inspected each other. With the other boy now facing him, Harry was able to see that he had dark hair as well as dark skin. Little Whinging was a predominately white town and Harry didn’t have many opportunities to go out so he had only ever seen people of other races from a distance. Given his limited experience with them, Harry saw having skin of a different shade as a thing as trivial as having hair or eyes that were a different colour than someone else. He had been much more focused on dealing with the hate he received from his own family over developing any kind of hate for others. 

The other boy seemed to reach his own conclusions about Harry because he folded his arms and said,

“Well, there are two options here. Either you are my new bunkmate, or you are a racist jerk who has come over to pick on the brown boy.”

The boy spoke with a joking tone, but underneath it was a sense of challenge as if he had dealt with that kind of treatment before and he wouldn’t let it slide.

Harry immediately felt the need to defuse the situation, not wanting the boy he slept nearest to having any kind of bad feelings toward him.

“I think I will choose option 1,” Harry replied, he then stuck out his hand in greeting, “My name’s Harry Potter. What’s Yours?”

The other boy’s slight scowl immediately exploded into a bright smile as he grabbed Harry’s hand and shook it vigorously.

“The names Nish,” he said, “Nish Kumar”

Suddenly Nish pulled Harry close and threw his arms around Harry’s shoulders.

“Stick with me Harry, and we’ll be running this place before second year.”

Harry had never met someone who interacted with him in such a friendly way. He felt a smile beginning to creep onto his face as he responded to the other boy’s proclamation.

“I think I will focus on surviving this year first before trying for something like that,” Harry replied

“Ah,” Nish said, “that simply won’t do. I will have to stick around you until you see that you can do a lot more than just survive.”

Nish then turned back to his bag and continued to unload it.

“Either way you’re at least stuck with me as a bunkmate. It looks like we each have a trunk underneath the bed so you can start unloading your stuff.” He said over his shoulder without looking at Harry.

Following Nish’s example, Harry walked around to the other side of the bunk and pulled out the second trunk and started unloading his belongings. He barely had enough to fill half the trunk. All the Dursleys had sent him off with was two sets of poorly dyed grey clothes, 7 pairs of underthings. 7 pairs of socks. And a toothbrush. Harry then proceeded to roll up the duffel bag and pack it away in the unused side of the trunk. 

After sliding the trunk back under the bed Harry then unslung the backpack he had been carrying as well. Inside were an assortment of pencils and pens held together with a rubber band, and a collection of spiral notebooks, all of them were at least partially used because Vernon didn’t see the point in buying Harry new stationery when they had perfectly usable stuff for him to take from home.

Harry placed the backpack on the ground and then stepped back and checked the numbers at the foot of the bunkbeds to see which was his. Bunk 19 turned out to be the top bunk so Harry decided to climb up and judge the quality of his new sleeping arrangements. Grabbing one of the corner poles and stepping up on the end of the bottom bunk he found that he was quite easily able to haul himself into the top bunk. The sheets were thick and rough and the blanket was as well. His pillow was stiff but not lumpy. Overall it wasn’t a luxurious experience but it was a big upgrade from the closet under the stairs.

Sitting back up Harry dangled his feet over the edge of the bed and looked back down at Nish. At first, Harry was unable to see his bunkmate, bending forward he was able to see that Nish had thought to do the same as Harry and was lying down in his new bed. Before Harry could get his attention however a shrill whistle ripped through the air grabbing all of the student’s attention. 

Looking toward the door Harry saw an unfamiliar man enter the room. He wore a white polo shirt and red shorts, and from his lips dangles a silver-coloured whistle. Opening his mouth he allowed the whistle to hang from a cord around his neck and spoke in a booming, American-accented voice.

“Alright first years, attention up here.” 

Putting his hands behind his back he began walking down the centre of the room as he spoke. 

“Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Mr. Atkins, and I am the supervisor of your dorm. I have a few ground rules. Number one, no roughhousing, this is your place to rest and relax so that you can excel in your schoolwork, not a place to wrestle your buddies, save that for PE. Number two, no food or drinks, eat outside, we don’t want any crumbs inviting mice or other pests into this building. Number three, lights out means lights out, at 10:00 we go dark and you should be asleep, you get eight hours a day to sleep and you should be using every one of them. Finally, rule number four is keep your crap in order, and I don’t just mean the stuff you brought from home. You are here to learn, so that’s what I expect from you. If I hear that you have been slacking off in class the janitors are going to be really happy because you will be giving them a break from having to clean your toilets for a week.”

For the entire time he was speaking he had been pacing through the room, meeting every boy’s eyes at least once. He wasn’t a giant of a man, only slightly above average in height, but the way he spoke was forceful and he grabbed the attention of all the students present. In addition to his voice what also kept their attention was his physical presence. The man was obviously in very good shape and his exposed arms and legs were corded with muscle. It came as no surprise when the man went on to explain that in addition to their dorm supervisor he would also be their physical education teacher. Finally, after his explanations were finished he asked if there were any questions.

At first, no one spoke until suddenly a voice rang out with a rude tone.

“Yeah, I got a question. What’s a yank doin’ here teachin’ a bunch of rejects like us how to catch a ball?” 

The boy who had spoken was a tall boy with sandy blonde hair and crooked teeth who was leaning against the post of his bunk bed. His shirt was partially untucked and he seemed to be doing his best to give off a confident air.

Mr Atkins turned and approached the boy, his face expressionless. 

“What’s your name?” Mr Atkin’s said, his voice not raised but still carrying across the room.

“Name’s Chester Wiggins.” The boy replied, lifting his chin in challenge.

“Well Mr. Wiggins, I am here because a man I respect thinks that everyone deserves a real chance at making something of themselves, and I agree with him.” the teacher calmly responded.

Turning back to the rest of the students he then called out.

“Line up and follow me to the auditorium for the welcome assembly.”

* * *

The walk to the auditorium was uneventful. Harry spent the time looking again at the grounds as they walked through them. He also saw other groups of students making their way to the main building but they weren’t coming all at the same time as the first years appeared to be doing.

Suddenly Harry felt a tap on his shoulder and turned to see that his bunkmate, Nish, was right next to him.

“So, I was kind of joking earlier about running this place, but I would like to at least be friendly with you seeing as you will be sleeping right above me and everything.”

Where before Nish had spoken with obvious bravado and energy, this time he appeared more subdued, almost nervous.

Harry was at a loss for words for a moment because he had never been approached by someone asking to be friends; all the boys in primary school having been scared off by Dudely and his gang. Not wanting to miss this chance Harry put on his best smile and responded,

“I would like that.” 

Immediately Nish’s eyes lit up and he chuckled before continuing the conversation.

“So how did you end up in this place anyway. I am here because I’m poor and most of my primary school teacher’s couldn’t appreciate my witty comebacks, or as my dad puts it me being too much of a little turd.”

Harry was surprised at how upbeat Nish was about attending Stonewall High. From what Harry gathered about the establishment it was not somewhere where kids wanted to be, nor somewhere where most parents would want their kids to be. Unless of course there was something wrong with the kid.

After thinking about that Harry’s own response was much more dour.

“I am here because my aunt and uncle thought it was the best that I deserved.”

Harry’s words made Nish pause slightly before another bright smile was forced onto his face and he placed his hand on Harry’s shoulder.

“Well joke’s on them because they didn’t know that you would get the incredible opportunity to be friends with me”

Nish spoke with such exaggerated pride that Harry immediately felt better at the joke. He looked to Nish again with a smile before looking at the main building as they approached it.

“So,” Nish continued, “What do you think the headmaster of this place will be like.”

“No idea,” Harry responded.

When he heard Harry’s short reply Nish shrugged and steered the conversation into more simple areas asking about Harry’s likes and dislikes.

They passed the rest of the time chatting and setting the foundation of their friendship. Nish was naturally outgoing and loud, always looking to add something to a conversation, which more often than not was some attempt at humour. Harry on the other hand was much quieter and more reserved though he would hold his own in a conversation after you got him started.

Finally after a few more minutes of walking the first-year group was seated front and centre in the auditorium.

The whole room was filled with the quiet murmuring that normally accompanies students when they are waiting for a meeting or class to start. Harry and the rest of the first years however were mostly quiet as they looked around themselves at the rest of the student body. Harry’s eyes eventually made it to the stage where the faculty were seated.

The faculty seemed for the most part to be normal teacher-looking people but sprinkled among the tweed jackets and balding heads there were a couple of teachers that seemed more like Mr, Atkins or the man who had first led Harry to the dorms, Mr Thomas. They were stiffer than the other teachers sitting up straight with their shoulders back. But the stiffness didn’t look uncomfortable for them, more they seemed in control, disciplined. As if each part of their body was put into its place with an express purpose. Harry was fascinated by them.

Once every seat for the faculty had been filled and the doors to the auditorium had been closed the man sitting at the end of the line of teachers stood. He was one of those teachers that Harry had been paying special attention to. He rose smoothly to what seemed like an enormous height. His skin was dark and his close-cropped hair was peppered with grey, but he seemed to have an almost ageless quality. His mouth was outlined by a neatly trimmed goatee and he was otherwise clean-shaven. He wore a Navy Blue three-button suit that seemed to accentuate his powerful arms and trim waist. 

As Harry watched him walk to the front of the stage he couldn’t help but see this man as the exact opposite to his uncle Vernon. Where Vernon was a fat, sloppy mass of simmering anger. The man before Harry was a statuesque example of calm control. 

When the man reached the middle of the stage he stepped up to a microphone that had been set up there. He then addressed the students assembled before him and his voice was rich and compelling.

“Greetings students, for those that are new my name is Headmaster Jacobs. I would first like to welcome back all of our returning students. I am eager to see how you have grown over the break and I am sure that your performance will demonstrate that you are living up to the values that our school has taught. You carry on your backs the reputation of Stonewall High School and I am sure that you will do this institution proud.”

As he spoke his voice seemed to carry a sense of pride for not just the school but the students as well, he truly believed what he said and that conviction made him convincing to his audience.

“Now,” He continued focusing his brown eyes on the first-year students before him with an intense stare. “I offer a sincere welcome to our newest group of students. I am sure that most of you have heard about our school’s reputation. We are where they send the lost causes, the problem kids, the ones that no one else could be bothered to deal with. I want to ask you all a question that I want you to ponder. Why are you here?”

He paused as though he expected an answer but the fervour in his voice as he spoke forced the young students to be silent. After his pause, he continued.

“I will tell you that most of you are probably here because no one cared. No one cared enough to help you succeed, and to stop you from developing habits that have not served you well. No one cared that you were paving the road you would be walking into a life of ruin and misery. No one cared enough to help you develop your talents into a tool you could use to build a better life for yourselves.”

He paused once more to let his words sink in. As Harry listened he felt the words impact him because of how truthful they were, the Dursleys never showed any care for him and while Dudley had been sent to the prestigious Smeltings academy that Vernon had attended Harry had instead been sent here where they wouldn’t have to spend money on him and where he would e out of sight and mind. Right as those thoughts began to pull Harry down into a pit of depression the Headmaster continued his speech.

“But,” he said, pulling the attention of the students back to himself, “let me tell you why I am here. I am here because I CARE. I care about you having the opportunity to succeed, I care about you making something of yourselves here and where you decide to go after school. I care enough that I won’t let you get away with living below your abilities. I care about whether or not you reach your potential, and I care about you becoming pillars of strength for those around you.” 

Once again the conviction of his words could be felt by the students. His words carried steel and seemed to be a fixed point that those listening could hold onto as they walked the path he described. Just as he had been shaken by the man’s first statement now Harry felt strengthened by these new declarations. Harry’s eyes almost shone with awe at the man as he continued to speak.

“You heard me speak of virtues to your seniors, you too will learn these virtues and I believe that each of you can grow to shoulder them with the same strength as those that came before you. Virtue one,” and as he said this he held up the thumb on his right hand.

Suddenly the entire auditorium rang as the entire student body said with the headmaster in one voice, 

“RESPONSIBILITY” 

The headmaster continued to speak without missing a beat,

“You are all able to know what is right and what is wrong, it is up to you to choose the right in every situation and it is up to you to accept the consequences of every action you take.”

The headmaster paused again before holding up his pointer finger and saying, “Virtue two.” again the auditorium rang as the student body responded to the call.

“HONESTY”

Again the headmaster explained the virtue,

“The only life worth living is one based on truth. You should never lie to anyone including yourself. If you wish to stand strong in the face of anything life throws your way you must be built on a foundation of honesty.”

Once more the headmaster paused this time the auditorium seemed to hold its breath all eyes were on him waiting for the cue it was as though unseen energy had infused everyone there. Finally, the middle finger in his had rose and the spoke, “and virtue three,”

All of the tension in the room was finally released in the crowd’s response.

“DILIGENCE” they roared,

After the crowd quieted down the barest hint of a smile found its way to the man’s face before he explained the final virtue.

“This virtue is the most vital. Anyone can be responsible once, anyone can be honest once, but it takes diligence to make those virtues essential parts of your character. The road to success is a long and hard one and you must be willing to force your way past pain and hardship.”

“These three virtues are what the entire education method of Stonewall is based on. If you are willing to internalize these virtues in your life that your future will be a bright one. This philosophy is shared among all of the teachers that you will interact with while you are here learning in these halls. All of us are here to help you, but we are also here to push you. Every day will be a challenge but they will be challenges that we believe you can overcome and that we will support you through.”

Here he made a final pause and he looked throughout the room. Harry held his breath when the man’s eyes passed over him seeming for a moment to peer into him specifically. He then spoke to close out his speech in a once again calm tone.

“I believe that each of you has great potential to leave the world as a better place. Even if that is by simply living a good life. I welcome all of you to stonewall high.”

As soon as he finished his remarks all of the students from 2nd year up began to applaud and cheer. The first years around Harry marvelled at the student body around them, wondering how they could be so excited to be at school again. Harry’s eyes never left the headmaster who still stood on the stage looking at the crowd of students with pride in his eyes.

When they had finally quieted down the headmaster said his final words of the evening.

“Now, off to the cafeteria with you all. We have a hearty dinner prepared so eat your fill, then get back to the dorms and get some rest you’ll be expected to get started bright and early. First-years you wait here and Mr Atkins will lead you to the cafeteria after the rest have filed out.”

And with that said the assembly was finally over. The rest of the night was a blur for Harry. He followed the rest of the crowd into the cafeteria and enjoyed a hearty stew with crusty rolls. It was simple food but there was plenty of it so no one had to go hungry. After dinner, the first years were brought back to their dorms and told to finish unpacking and to remember the time for lights out.

Soon Harry found himself lying in his bed, having changed into his pyjamas, thinking about the speech he had just heard. His thoughts were eventually interrupted by the whispered voice of Nish from the bunk below him.

“So,” said Nish, “What did you think of the headmaster, eh? The man certainly knows how to speak.”

Harry took a moment to consider before giving his answer.

“I have never met anyone quite like him.” Harry replied, “All I can say is that I think you were right my relatives thought I would not enjoy this school, but they couldn’t have known that I would get to meet people like you or the headmaster here. Now all I can think about is how excited I am about being here.”

“Cool,” Nish said back.

Harry chuckled at the simple response before bidding his new friend good night and rolling over and trying to fall asleep.


	2. Chapter 2

# Chapter 2

Sirius Black sat numbly in his cell in Azkaban taking part in one of the few pastimes he had left after spending ten years in a wizard prison; pondering the choices he had made in life to land him in a pit guarded by the most demonic creatures in the world.

Though there were many sore spots in his younger years he had enjoyed them for the most part. Growing up and eventually living with his best friend had been fun. Terrorizing the halls of Hogwarts as a member of the Marauders was a blast. That same time had also been filled with its fair share of romantic flings which were also enjoyable though he never had met someone who he felt an unbreakable connection with like James had with Lily. Tormenting greasy old Snivelus had also been enjoyable though he supposed with the hindsight of maturity that those were not his best moments.

Then, of course, he had graduated and things began to go downhill. Sure at first the idea of the war was exciting for an 18-year-old wet behind the ears wizard. He was following the great Dumbledore into battle, fighting for the very soul of wizard-kind. Then he had started to learn more about the politics of the war. He learned that for most of the supposed “light” side the problem with Voldemort wasn’t that he hated muggles and muggle-borns, no, it was that he was killing them. 

For many pure-blood families, it was fine to hate someone who didn’t have magic but you shouldn’t harm them. That was barbaric and beneath the lofty magical sensibilities of light wizards. Sirius was honestly disgusted by those philosophies but by that point, the fighting was so brutal and any wand that wasn’t shooting spells at you was held by a friend even if you couldn’t stand the person holding it.

Then near the end, Voldemort’s efforts shifted in a way that Sirius still didn’t fully understand. Instead of targeting important targets, the leader of the dark forces started putting more and more effort into finding and killing Sirius’ best friend and his new wife. Right at the time when they were most vulnerable due to Lily being pregnant. 

Sirius always had a suspicion that Dumbledore knew the real reason that Voldemort was so focused on the couple because he seemed equally preoccupied with keeping them safe as Voldemort was about finding and killing them. Sirius could never fully understand it though, sure he loved James like a brother and would have gladly died in his place, but James wasn’t some political lynchpin that the light was rallying behind. That was Dumbledore’s position. James had just been a rank and file soldier like Sirius himself.

A part of Sirius wondered if that was part of the reason he had decided to switch the secret keepers. Had some part of him not taken the threat on his friend’s life seriously enough so he had told them to switch to the rat under the pretence of it being less expected of them. Then another part of him would always respond that no, he hadn’t thought that and that he was instead just trying to think of new ways to blame himself for the death of his friend. 

He would catch himself doing that sometimes, trying to make himself hurt more. He had been in this prison for ten years now and had at some point just become numb to everything. On some level, he felt that was wrong. His friend was dead and it was his fault, he shouldn’t be numb to it ever, but ten years was a long time and as the saying goes time heals all ailments.

And so here he found himself numbly sitting watching as time flew by. Normally he would be doing this in his animagus form to lessen the strain of any nearby dementors, but he knew that at some point today the warden would be coming by with a ministry employee and he didn’t want them figuring out his little trick. 

Inspections were actually a fairly regular occurrence in the prison. Every week the wardens would walk through to check for prisoners that had died or been kissed. He knew that a ministry official would be coming on this trip because they had already done an inspection yesterday ahead of schedule. After all, it wouldn’t do for someone to figure out that the people in charge of the jail didn’t actually have their dementor population under control. Sirius was almost grateful that they didn’t have a better handle on their ghastly guards. After all, it was because of them that he eventually figured out his trick for staying sane. 

It had happened a few years back. The dementors had come in the middle of the night. Back then it was still nearly impossible for him to sleep due to their effect on him so he had been awake when they came into his cell. Immediately his survival instincts had begun looking for something to do. He was a good wizard but nowhere near skilled enough at wandless magic to conjure a Patronus. In a last-ditch effort, Sirius had used the only magic at his disposal and transformed hoping that his dog form might allow him some additional mobility. Suddenly the dementors had stopped. They appeared almost confused and began sniffing around the room as though they had lost him.

Through further experimentation, Sirius finally figured out that he was practically invisible to the monsters. This had wonderfully afforded him the ability to once again sleep soundly and even on occasion take shorts walks up and down the corridor. Unfortunately, even though his discovery relieved him from the torment of outside forces, it didn’t help with the hell that he was putting himself through by constantly being wracked with guilt over the death of his friend and the subsequent abandonment of his godson.

Sirius’ musings were cut off by the sound of talking appearing at the end of the corridor where his cell was located. Peering out through the bars he could see one of the few human guards stationed on Azkaban leading another man and giving curt explanations of the facilities.

“This is E block.” The guard explained, “Here is where we keep violent criminals. Dementor patrols are scheduled to happen three times a day to keep them under control.”

The man accompanying the guard was obviously some secretary sent by the Department of Magical Law Enforcement to create a report for someone above him to read. He seemed like a pleasant enough fellow, you could tell because he was uncomfortable only the sick, or twisted were comfortable in a place that was home to creatures like dementors. He wore a smart set of robes and carried a small notebook where he jotted down some of the things that the guard was saying. 

“I see,” the secretary said, as he finished another note, “and do you have anyone of note on this floor?”

“Oh yeah,” the guard replied, “this is where we keep Black.”

The secretary froze and turned to his guide.

“Really?” he asked, “The Sirius Black, is here somewhere.”

“Yeah, he’s right over there,” the guard said. “Want to see ‘im?”

The secretary deliberated for a moment before giving a nervous nod.

Sirius, having heard all of this, felt his old prankster instincts start to act up. He watched as the man approached noting the fear in his gait that seemed to build as he got closer. Different options for how he could act ran through Sirius’ mind. Should he bark and howl at the man to see how far he jumped. Should he just stay silent and glare at him to see how uncomfortable he could make him. So many options were laid out in front of him that Sirius was spoiled for choice. Finally, he made his decision and prepared for his performance.

The secretary was expecting a lot of things when he heard that the infamous traitor to the Potter family was here. What he was not expecting was to come up to the cell and find the man standing up straight with perfect posture wearing a pleasant smile on his face. As though he were greeting guests in his garden rather than standing in a dingy cell in the worst prison known to man.

“Hello,” the convicted murderer stated in a smooth cultured tone, “I don’t have the benefit of a window to tell the time so I will simply say, good day gentlemen. To what do I owe this pleasure.”

The secretary had a gobsmacked expression as he saw the state of Sirius. Sirius was trying his hardest not to break character and did his best to seem as comfortable as possible. After all, as he had said before only the sick and twisted are comfortable in a place inhabited by dementors.

The secretary continued to gape like a fish which made Sirius smile widen slightly. As he watched the man Sirius eventually noticed a detail that he had not been able to see before. Underneath the man’s arm was a copy of a newspaper. Suddenly eager to see exactly how far he had shaken the man Sirius asked in the same polite tone.

“Terribly sorry but could I see the paper I am very curious about the most recent quidditch matches.”

Automatically the secretary held the paper out to him. Sirius took a quick look at the guard to gauge his response and see if he would lash out if Sirius attempted to reach past the bars of his cell. Luckily he seemed to be too preoccupied not bursting out laughing at the secretary's response to Sirius’ little joke. 

Acting quickly Sirius grabbed the paper, doing his best to not break the trance that had taken over the other man. After holding the paper up and reading the front page, however, it was Sirius who found himself frozen in shock. His mouth dropped open and his eyes bulged.

Seeing the sudden change in the man’s countenance was enough to break the secretary from his trance. He suddenly realized what he had done and saw that Sirius was reading his paper. Then he remembered what, or rather who was on the front page. He immediately rushed forward and snatched the paper back from Sirius’ hands.

As soon as the paper was pulled away Sirius reacted, and this time it was in a way much closer to what the secretary had expected. Sirius threw himself against the bars violently, His teeth bared and his eyes widened as far as they could go.

“GIVE IT BACK” he cried, demanding the paper, “I NEED TO READ IT”

The secretary leapt back nearly three feet at the violent reaction. The guard on the other hand immediately grabbed his wand and launched a stunning spell into the cell. 

“What in blazes got into ‘im” the guard puffed out, suddenly breathing deeply as the adrenaline drained from his system.

“I think it had something to do with today's headline. Not surprising considering the circumstances.” The secretary responded.

“What are you on about,” the guard said but he froze as well when he saw the headline that the other man held out for him to see.

COULD THE BOY WHO LIVED BE A SQUIB

By Rita Skeeter

Below the headline was the only known picture of the famous child, as a baby of only one year of age held between his two smiling parents.

The picture in the years following the downfall of Voldemort was often seen as a bittersweet image where the final loving moments of a family that was to be torn apart by violence was captured and immortalized. Now combined with the headline above the image was a full-blown tragedy. Not only was an innocent child ripped from his family, but now the hope that the wizarding world had placed in the idea of a future symbol of the ideal wizard was dashed as well. Harry Potter would never lead the wizarding world as many believed he was destined to. After all, he wasn’t even a wizard

Several hours later Sirius Black was awake and again sitting against the wall of his cell, only this time he was far from numb. His eyes seemed to boil with black clouds of self-loathing. He had been in his early 20’s when the tragedy struck and he had found himself as the godfather to a 1-year-old orphan. He should have thought of the child first. Instead, he was consumed by thoughts of revenge. And because of that here he was close to his mid-thirties and he had spent more than a quarter of his life rotting in this jail cell, all while his best friend’s son, his godson, had grown and was now god knows where and without magic to keep him safe.

Suddenly Sirius’ eyes filled with conviction. “I am sorry my friend,” he mumbled to himself, “I have been shirking my responsibilities to your son and it is time that I rectified that.”

And so it was on that night that Sirius began to plan to do what the majority of wizards thought impossible. He would be leaving Azkaban in the next few nights. He would find Harry and he would stand by and protect him no matter what.

* * *

Harry sat up in his bed and stretched before hopping down to get ready for the day. He shivered when his bare feet touched the floor, It had been a few months since the start of the school year so the mornings were starting to get chilly. He made sure to be quiet to not wake Nish yet, he had made that mistake once and had to deal with the other boy spending the entire day whining about how cruel his bunkmate was.

Harry had the habit of getting up early because often the early morning was the only time he didn’t have to deal with his relatives, and of course, because he liked to start on his chores early. Now he kept the habit because he felt it fit the atmosphere of the bunkhouse he was currently living in. On one particularly early morning he had snuck out to see the grounds and get some fresh air and he had happened to see Mr Atkins, running in the morning mist, and ever since then, he had felt that waking up early must be a good habit to have. Plus being first in line for the showers was a nice perk.

Twenty minutes later and Harry was once more climbing into his bunk with his book bag in tow. Working quietly he pulled out his textbooks and got to work on the last few questions for the math assignment due today. Ever since the start of the year, when Harry had heard the headmaster's words Harry had been trying to exemplify the three virtues that had been described and he felt that to be truly honest and responsible he had to get his assignments done on time. But that didn’t mean that he wouldn’t sometimes procrastinate until the last moment.

As he sat down to get to work he did his best to sit in a way that wouldn’t wrinkle his new pants and shirt. As he paid attention to his uniform he couldn’t help but think back to when he got them. It had been only a few weeks since the start of the year and Harry had been called into the headmaster’s office.

The room was sparsely furnished only holding a few bookshelves, some filing cabinets, and a large wooden desk that the man himself sat behind. In front of the desk, a pair of chairs were placed for visitors to sit in. The walls were all painted in an earthy tone, almost a beige, with a large window on the north-facing wall letting in the light of the day.

When Harry entered the room the headmaster looked up from the documents he had been reading, a pair of golden wire-framed glasses perched on the end of his nose. When his eyes met Harry’s he began to speak.

“Mr Potter,” He said in greeting, “have a seat”

The headmaster spoke in short efficient sentences but he didn’t come off as cold or rude. Instead, it was merely that everything he said had a purpose so you wanted to pay attention. When Harry had taken a seat the headmaster rested his hands on his desks and continued to speak.

“I have noticed, Mr, Potter, that you do not wear the standard uniform that the school handbook prescribes.”

His tone was not accusatory, he was merely stating a fact. The unspoken question that accompanied that statement hung in the air between them. Harry sat and began to feel uncomfortable, he was exceedingly embarrassed at the topic of conversation given the fact that the Dursleys always gave him the bare minimum of necessary clothing and Harry now feared that their choice to cut corners with his uniform would gain him the derision of this man that Harry had been so impressed by.

The headmaster immediately recognized the boy’s discomfort though he wasn’t sure of the exact cause of it. He knew from the paperwork that the boy’s guardians had filled out that they were squarely in the middle-class in terms of income, so it was unlikely that they had been forced to try and make their own copy of the uniform due to financial trouble as he had seen other families do in the past. Also while he was smaller than some Harry didn’t have the complexion of someone who was malnourished due to neglect. The headmaster had also spoken to Atkins and asked if the man had seen any scars or markings that may indicate physical abuse, which the man said were not apparent. In reviewing Harry’s file Headmaster Jacob’s had also found a note from the boy’s guardians that the reason they were sending him to Stonewall had to do with obedience and behaviour issues. Something that wasn’t uncommon in their student body.

Jacobs made sure that all of their graduates received glowing recommendations when he sent them into the world, but he never put much effort into quelling the school’s reputation for being the place that the “bad kids” are sent. After spending the majority of his life in the military he had met plenty of the types of people who had grown up as “bad kids” and knew that with proper encouragement they could do great things. He wanted to have the chance to help those bad kids, thus the reason for his particular brand of marketing. 

Harry, however, showed no signs of behaviour issues in the three weeks that schools had been in session. If anything, the teachers Jacobs had spoken to said he was eager to please. He was motivated in classes and was doing quite well with his grades. So far as Jacobs could tell the evidence was piling up against the Dursley family and the headmaster resolved himself to find out more about the situation Harry was growing up in.

Finishing all of these musings the headmaster spoke again hoping to ease the boy’s discomfort,

“I suspect that this is no fault or yours. So I put in a requisition request for a proper set of uniforms for you.”

Reaching down he pulled up a pair of clean new uniforms and presented them to Harry. Harry was at first hesitant to take them, feeling slightly overwhelmed at what the headmaster was offering. Seeing the boy’s hesitance Jacobs attempted to encourage him.

“As I said at the beginning of the year,” he continued, “You carry on your shoulders the reputation of this institution. Take pride in how you present yourself.”

When he heard the words Harry’s back straightened and he squared his shoulders as best he could.

“Yes, sir” Harry replied with a little more pride in his voice.

Seeing the boy's reaction made the headmaster’s lip twitch into a slight smile before he also sat up straighter and responded, mirroring the boy.

“Good,” he said, “you are dismissed to get changed and get to the rest of your classes.”

Excitedly Harry grabbed his new clothes and rushed out the door. When he next saw Nish his friend had looked at him in confusion. After Harry explained what happened however he beamed and said,

“Well that’s good then, I was about to barge into the offices and tell them that they had the wrong man because you are much too boring to do something that would land you in the headmaster’s office.”

Coming out of his reminiscing Harry finished pulling out his assignment and got to work finishing the last couple questions. Around him, a few of the other early risers in the dorm were making their way to the showers to prepare themselves for the day as well. Harry tuned out the noises that were starting to happen around him so that he could get the work he needed to finish.

After about 15 minutes of working Harry paused to lean over the side of his bunk and roused his friend from slumber with a few shard raps on the metal frame of the bed with his knuckle.

“Hey Nish,” he called, “you better get up or you won't have time to shower before breakfast.”

Nish grumbled as he started to stir. Though he would often joke about grand designs and taking the world by storm Nish, for the most part, liked to keep to himself. Yes, he was outgoing and energetic but more often he was just puffing out his chest to try and impress those around him or to get a laugh out of Harry.

Harry did know however that Nish was a reliable and protective friend. When Harry had run out of pencils, after the meagre supply that the Dursleys had given him had all been used up, one of his teachers had been about to chastise Harry for not coming to class prepared. Nish had immediately come to Harry’s defence saying that if the teacher really wanted his students prepared for class they should all be bringing blankets and pillows because all he did was put them to sleep. The teacher, who did not enjoy the joke as much as the rest of the class, had sent Nish to the office, however, he was also distracted enough for Nish to slip Harry a pencil. 

After that class, Harry had approached the teacher to explain the situation in the hopes of helping out his friend. He hadn’t said anything about the Dursleys but had instead said that he had run out of pencils and didn’t have any funds to purchase more at the commissary. The teacher had thanked him and said he would take that into account concerning Nish.

By now Harry and Nish had fallen into a comfortable pattern where Harry’s reserved introspective demeanour balanced out with Nish’s manic extroverted energy. They looked out for each other, be that in simple examples, like Harry always making sure Nish got up on time, or in more serious situations.

Another 20 minutes passed and Harry was just finishing his work when Nish stumbled back to their shared bunk. He was dressed and fresh out of the shower, evidenced by the water still clinging to his hair, but he still moved lethargically as he collected his things in preparation for the day.

Mornings were the one time where the two friends seemed to switch places, with Nish acting groggy and slow as he woke up and Harry being fully awake and energized by the new day. Once they had both finished backing their book bags they decided to head over to the cafeteria for breakfast.

Even though everything at Stonewall was strictly scheduled the students, for the most part, had free range of the campus as long as they showed up where they were supposed to be on time; however, if a student missed a scheduled event they were given a severe punishment such as cleaning toilets or caring for the grounds. It was explained that this system was set up to teach the students the values they had heard in the welcoming speech. Responsibility of making sure you arrived where you were expected and diligence because it was an everyday occurrence. Harry never had trouble keeping to the schedule and thanks to his punctuality Nish was always on time as well. 

Entering into the cafeteria the two boys settled in for another unremarkable day of going to classes and then trying to find some way to entertain themselves, which normally meant trying to find a group of kids to play football with. Several different clubs had been started earlier in the year to allow like-minded students the chance to connect, but neither Harry nor Nish had felt particularly inclined to join any of them. Instead, choosing to remain independent and take part in whatever activity happened to catch their fancy that day.

Harry and Nish eventually collected their chosen meals and sat next to each other eating in comfortable silence. After a moment though Harry turned to Nish to double-check that he had everything he needed for their first class of the day, Nish could be forgetful sometimes, and he saw Nish looking with narrowed eyes at something on the other side of the cafeteria. Following his eyes, Harry finally saw what his friend had noticed and couldn’t help his face contorting into a grimace as well.

Chester Wiggins was the one fly in the ointment for Harry’s view of the school he now attended. The other boy was a cruel bully to his classmates, but the problem wasn’t that he was a bully it was that he was smart enough to hide it from the teachers. It wasn’t that the teachers were unobservant either, every other instance of bullying had been quelled quickly and the perpetrator had been punished. But Chester was more sly, ever since the boy’s initial outburst against the PE teacher on the first day he had been very careful about checking for watching eyes before acting. He had convinced two other students to help him as lookouts, and worst of all he was patient. A couple of the students he targeted had made sure to be near a teacher at every opportunity and Chester had just waited until finally they had slipped up and been caught alone. 

Even Nish had been targeted a few times when Harry and he were separated. Nish had told him that nothing had happened other than being called some racist names, but Harry had noticed him getting into his bunk a little more gingerly than he usually did that night. Harry had approached some of the victims and offered to support them if they would go to a teacher, but none wanted to. Nish had explained it when Harry had made the offer,

“I’ve gone to plenty of teachers before and it is always a crapshoot for whether or not they will listen to me.” He said, “I have found that often it is better to just deal with it myself, everyone gets bored eventually.” 

Harry suspected that most of the students here had similar stories after all this was the school where they send bad kids, so most of the students here probably had not had the best experience with teachers. Even Harry had some trouble trusting all the teachers here. As much as Harry was impressed by the Headmaster and Mr Atkins, and even Mr Thomas, despite his initial response to the man, most of the other teachers didn’t get the same response from him, they weren’t bad, but they were just ordinary.

Today Wiggins had chosen to focus on a smallish boy that was sitting at the table adjacent to Wiggins’ own and reading while he ate. His two henchmen had locked their eyes on the supervisors in the cafeteria and warned him when he was being watched. As soon as the teacher's eyes were off of him he would scoop up a piece of his scrambled eggs and fling it at the other boy. His eggy missile flew through the air and landed on the table near the boy who flinched away. This happened a few times more and Harry was initially confused until he realised that Wiggins wasn’t aiming for the boy but instead the book. The library at Stonewall had strict rules about borrowing books if they were returned damaged your borrowing privileges would be suspended for a time proportional to the damage that the book had received. The boy obviously must enjoy reading if he were taking the chance of the book getting stained by food, so Wiggins was trying to take that away.

Finally, the boy had enough so he collected his things and made his way out of the cafeteria. A few moments later however Harry saw Wiggins follow. Harry didn’t know for sure that Wiggins planned to continue tormenting the other boy but at the same time, Harry knew that it was possible. Harry couldn’t stand by anymore. He had seen how much Chester Wiggins had hurt other students, and in his mind Harry thought of all the times he wished someone had stepped in during one of Dudley’s Harry hunts. 

Standing suddenly Harry startled Nish causing him to jump slightly in his seat.

“What in blazes are you doing?” Nish asked in a shocked voice.

“Watch my things.” was Harry’s simple reply before he took off in the same direction as the bully.

Nish was taken aback by the abruptness of Harry’s request after a moment or two. When he finally realized that Harry was headed after Wiggins and he began to move to follow, but by that point, Harry was out the door and Nish doubted he could catch up. Sighing he instead began to clean up Harry’s forgotten tray so that Harry wouldn’t get in trouble for leaving a mess behind.

Harry made it out of the cafeteria just in time to see Wiggins leaving out the nearest door and turning to the left. As Harry tried to think of where he was headed he remembered that there was a shed behind the main building where some of the lawn care equipment was stored and he had heard that was a place that Wiggins liked to take the kids he tormented if it was close by.

Upon reaching the door he had seen the bullies exit from Harry searched frantically for some clue as to where they had gone. Not seeing anything he had no other option than to follow his instincts and check the shed. Moving along the side of the main building as quickly and quietly as he could, putting every lesson on stealth that he had learned from his years of living with his relatives. As he approached the corner of the building, he began to hear voices.

“-- do you want?” said a voice Harry was unfamiliar with.

“I’m jus’ lookin’ for some mornin’ entertainment” the unmistakable voice of Chester Wiggins replied, “I couldn’ find any flies to pull the wings off of, so I figur’d you’d be the nex’ best thing.”

Upon hearing this Harry put on a burst of speed, rushing around the corner of the shed and sidestepping the boy who had been standing as the lookout. 

“Stop” Harry commanded as authoritatively as he could manage.

Everyone in the isolated space froze at the sudden intrusion, Wiggins’ hangers-on were staring dumbly at Harry, and Wiggins was holding the smaller boy by the collar his fist pulled back as if to strike him. Wiggins flashed his cronies dirty glares, blaming them for the interruption before he addressed Harry.

“What do you want?” he said in a threatening tone, “you friends with this waste of space.”

Meeting Harry’s eyes for a second the two boys studied each other. Suddenly a look of recognition filled Wiggins’ eyes and he continued to speak.

“No wait, you’re friends with that A-rab kid ain’t ya? Why are you here? I haven’t bothered him in weeks.” 

At hearing the epithet given to his friend Harry’s anger spiked. He thought back to all the moments when he was powerless: when Dudley and his gang would torment him, when his uncle and aunt made him feel unwanted and unloved. He thought of how much he hated that feeling, of thinking that no one would come to help him. Then his mind went to the welcoming speech at the start of the year, and the three virtues that the headmaster wanted the students to learn and how powerful they made Harry feel powerful as he strove to keep them, and in this moment Harry made a vow to himself that he wouldn’t live his life in a way where he felt powerless ever again.

“I am here because you need to stop Wiggins.” Harry said, “You may have been able to avoid the teachers but you can’t avoid me.”

Wiggins’s face held a dumbfounded look before he suddenly started laughing,

“What d’you think this is, “ Wiggins said through his laughter, “A cartoon where you swoop in and save the day? You‘re all alone against three of us.”

Looking over Harry’s shoulder he gestured with his head at the lookout Harry had just run past. Suddenly Harry felt a blow impact with the back of his head. He fell forward, but if the years of bullying he had received from his cousin’s gang taught him anything it was how to keep going after taking a hit. So, when he touched the ground he immediately scrambled back up and stepped back to be able to see all three of his attackers. He ignored the soreness that resulted from the first blow with a practised effort and tried to think of what to do next, he had only ever fought back against Dudley once and that had resulted in being yelled at and tossed into his cupboard under the stairs so he had never tried again for fear of worse punishment. Today though he was fully resolved to fight the boys in front of him even though he expected to lose.

Wiggins upon seeing a new target in Harry tossed the small boy he had been holding behind him and seemed to dismiss him outright. When he saw this Harry met the eyes of the other boy and tried to motion with his head that he should get away. But something unexpected took place, The boy’s eyes previously filled with fear changed, and instead became filled with fury. Taking off the backpack that had been on his shoulders the boy grabbed it by one of the loops swung it over his head to come crashing down onto the back of Chester Wiggins. Harry and the two nameless thugs stared speechless at what had just happened.

“Knowledge is power, jerk” the boy then said to the form of Wiggins who was writhing on the ground.

Harry was the quickest of the other three in the brawl to recover so seeing the shocked state of the boy who had hit him earlier he rushed forward and shoved him with all his might. Not expecting the sudden force the other boy stumbled and clanged loudly against the side of the metal shed.

“Come on,” Harry suddenly called to the boy with the backpack.

Immediately both boys were running back around the corner of the building and toward the entrance. Right as they arrived at the door it swung open and out walked Nish hefting his and Harry’s bags on his shoulders. Nish froze as the other two boys skidded to a stop in front of him.

“Harry, whoa, where's the fire?” Nish said suddenly.

Harry found himself panting and felt like he was shaking uncontrollably as the adrenaline from the situation he had just been in began to leave his system. Combined with those feelings, however, was a sense of elation at the fact that he had managed to stop Chester from getting away with tormenting another person.

“Why did you do that?” the boy next to Harry suddenly said.

He was similarly out of breath but his eyes held a look of suspicion as he looked at Harry. Harry pondered the question, not wanting to blurt out an answer. Why had he stepped in when he could have easily ignored the problem like others had done for him in the past. Finally, he spoke. 

“I have had to deal with bullies that got away with everything they wanted to do for most of my life.” he said somberly, “I didn’t want that to happen anymore.”

When he heard the answer the other boy stood up straight.

“In that case, thank you,” he said, “no one has ever stood up for me like that before. Normally I have to skip classes to get a moment of peace and quiet.”

He then extended his hand while with a shy smile as he introduced himself.

“My name’s Liam by the way, Liam O’Brien” 

Harry happily grabbed his hand for a hardy shake and introduced himself in turn.

“I’m Harry Potter”

“And I’m Nish Kumar,” Nish suddenly interjected, tired of being left out of what was going on, “Sorry about not being there for the tussle you two were obviously in, but someone had to take care of the bags.”

Upon saying this Nish swung Harry’s bag around so it collided with his chest and he instinctively grabbed it. Nish then let go of the bag and walked to stand next to Harry before he continued.

“Being the manservant to a knight in shining armour can be such a hassle”

Harry immediately felt bad for making Nish feel like a servant and began to apologize.

“Nish, I’m sorry I didn’t mean to make you fe-”

“Lighten up mate,” Nish interrupted, “ learn to take a joke seriously”

Liam began to chuckle at the comedic display of the two friends, when suddenly the doors they were still standing by were thrown open and out walked a hulking boy with dark brown hair.

“Liam,” he said with worry in his voice, “what happened I came back from the bathroom and you were gone.”

Looking Liam over the new boy took note of his bedraggled clothes. He then turned to Harry and Nish and his face became stormy.

“Liam, were these two bullying you?” the boy said.

“No Travis,” Liam said quickly, trying to defuse the situation, “It was Chester Wiggins, but Harry helped me get away.”

Upon hearing the explanation the boy immediately switched targets for his anger.

“Ugh, where is that Chester, I’ll show him not to mess with my friend.” 

“Whoa there big guy,” Nish suddenly said, “There’s no point looking to start a fight after it’s been finished. How bout we just introduce ourselves? I'm Nish, and this is Harry, a pleasure.”

“Name’s Travis Willingham,” The large boy finally said after calming down, “I am Liam’s bunkmate, and we look out for each other.”

“Ah,” Nish said, “a man of loyalty I see. Me and Harry have much the same history. I am obviously the brains of our little operation, and the muscle, and the sense of humour, tell me again Harry, what do you bring to our partnership.” He turned to Harry as he said the last part with a perplexed look on his face.

“A firm grasp on reality,” was Harry’s deadpanned response, “something you obviously lack.”

At hearing Harry’s response Travis began to laugh heartily, “Do you two rehearse that or something.” he said between chortles. With the mood of the group lifted all four of the students had smiles on their faces, at least until they heard the bell announcing the beginning of classes for the day. 

Later that evening as the four boys cleaned the toilets they had been assigned to as punishment for being late they swapped stories about their pasts and talked about how they ended up at Stonewall. Most of the storytelling was done by Nish of course who seemed to have an endless supply of anecdotes about teachers he had annoyed or uncles and cousins he had gone on crazy adventures with. The teacher set to watch them as they worked thought about telling them to quiet down, but even though they talked none of the boys were slacking off, so he figured there was no harm in allowing some friendly conversation to continue.


	3. Chapter 3

#  Chapter 3

Hermione Granger had mixed feelings about Hogwarts as a school. The subject of study was amazing, and the teachers were mostly wonderful; except for Snape, who showed obvious favouritism, and Binns, who must prolong his stay on earth by sucking the energy out of the students in his class. Not that Hermione would ever say such things to the teachers’ faces. She had too much respect for the teaching profession for that. The building itself was wondrous, if at times inconvenient, with all its moving staircases and fake walls. But even though there was definitely magic surrounding her she didn’t expect the magic school to be so ordinary.

For the biggest example look at what she was doing right now. Sitting in the library reviewing for her finals in two weeks. She would have been doing this exact same thing if she had gone to the preparatory school that she and her parents had been looking into before the day the owl had shown up carrying a letter addressed to her bedroom. Which, admittedly, she agreed with her father was slightly creepy. Regardless of the strangeness of the letter, Hermione had seen it as an invitation to a wild and untamed side of the world where there would be so much to learn and do. Instead, it was just an invitation to a school. One where she learned about things that were already discovered, merely walking the same path that millions of witches had walked before her, just as she would have done without magic.

Closing the book she was reading Hermione rubbed her eyes trying to relieve some of the fatigue that had built up from studying for so long and let out a large sigh. The sound grabbed the attention of the two other children sharing her table, a witch of Indian descent with a pile of books next to her that rivalled Hermione’s own and a slightly chubby boy who had been enjoying a treatise on magical plants

Neville Longbottom and Padma Patil were Hermione’s only permanent study buddies, and she would even dare to call them friends. She had met Neville at the very beginning of the year on the train when she had offered to help him find his lost toad. After that, they had both been sorted into the same house and lacking any other connections the two had gradually gravitated together to the point where they regularly sat and worked together in classes. They didn’t have any particularly memorable interaction that cemented their friendship but the constant contact had eventually evolved into a comfortable familiarity with one another.

Padma and Hermione’s introduction was the more memorable of her two friends. It had started when Padma had come over to the Gryffindor table to talk to her sister who had been sorted into Hermione’s house. Hermione had been sitting nearby and had expressed curiosity in hearing about Padma’s heritage. Padma had been surprised by this because even though she was in the house of knowledge it seemed that most of the students there were only interested in British knowledge. What followed was a spirited discussion about the difference found between eastern and western methods for magic. This discussion eventually became a regular occurrence with Neville sometimes joining in giving a more traditional English mage’s perspective. Over the months of school being in session, their group solidified into its current form with them all regularly meeting to study and spend time with each other. Given their closeness, it was no wonder that Hermione’s sigh drew the attention of her two confidants.

“What was that about?” Padma asked, “Are you finally having trouble with a subject Miss Know-It-All?”

Hermione smiled fondly at the name. It had started as an insult from some of the boys in her own house, but Padma had encouraged Hermione to wear the name as a badge of honour proving that the other students were jealous that she was so much better than them. Padma had then started to use the name as a term of endearment and vowed that she would one day reclaim it to its rightful place among the house of Ravenclaw.

Putting on an air of false haughtiness Hermione responded, “Not a chance, nothing could possibly be academically challenging for the great Miss Now-It-All.”

Dropping the attitude she continued, “No, I just feel like this year was a bit of a waste.” She gestured at the books that surrounded them as she continued, “All we’ve done is sit in classes and read books and write essays, with the odd spell cast here and there. And don’t get me wrong I love books and classes, but when I got a letter inviting me to an honest to goodness magical school I expected more adventure and excitement than this. I don’t really see any difference between this and a muggle school besides the subject matter.”

“Well,” Padma responded, “it seems that someone is forgetting about the first half of the year. Don’t you remember Halloween? What muggle school can say they were invaded by a troll?”

“A troll none of the students even had the chance to see.” Hermione retorted, “we were all whisked off to our rooms while the teachers took care of it.”

“What about when Sirius Black escaped over Christmas break?” Padma then tried.

“And how does that affect any of us here,” Hermione said back, “tucked away in one of the most secure places in all of magical society?”

“I like that life is boring.” Neville interjected, “When it comes to magic when things are exciting people are usually dying, or worse.”

His comment immediately silenced the two girls. Hermione was suddenly guilty as she thought of what they had learned about Neville’s parents.

“Neville,” she said, “I am sorry, I-I didn’t mean…”

“I know,” Neville said, blushing at how his statement had affected his friends, “I wasn’t trying to say that you are wrong, after all, you are in Gryffindor rather than Ravenclaw for a reason. What I am trying to say is that there is plenty of stuff like that out in the world, the point of school is to get us ready to face the excitement we will see after we graduate. Don’t write off the magical world just because you weren’t thrown into the deep end.” Neville finished speaking and smiled at his two friends.

The girls just stared at their friend in mute shock. It wasn’t often but every once in a while Neville would do or say something incredibly wise or brave. Whenever it did happen though you were always better off listening to his advice. Hermione felt sudden relief at hearing her friend’s words and thanked him for sharing his insight.

“Wow,” Padma said, “with such sage wisdom I almost think we should be calling Neville Mister Know-It-All now.”

Neville blushed at her teasing and immediately backpedalled, “N-n-no, with how badly my practical scores are there is no way I could take the title from Hermione.”

Seeing him suddenly switch back to his normal stuttering self caused the two young witches to burst into quiet giggles until Madam Pince had to shush them. Eventually, they all found their way back into their books, and while part of Hermione felt content with Neville’s words, another part of her still hungered for adventure in the fantastical world she found herself in.

* * *

“You enter into the lich king’s palace and find him sitting on the throne” Liam described, “‘so heroes,’ he says, spitting out the words as though they were a curse, ‘you believe you can best me simply because you have beaten my generals. I’ll have you know that I am far more powerful than all of them combined.’ after saying this he rises from the throne and floats in the air menacingly, please roll for initiative.”

“Booyah,” Travis exclaims, “It is time to kill us a lich.”

“Yeah, yeah” Nish responded, “just hurry up and pass the dice, Zethyr needs to see how this adventure ends so he can add it to his next hit song.”

“No arguing,” Liam stated, “And remember you all promised to get your own dice to use in next year’s campaign.”

Harry just chuckled at his friends’ antics and waited his turn for the single twenty-sided die they all shared between them. After becoming friends the four boys had started hanging around every day after classes and Liam eventually brought up his passion for role-playing games and fantasy. Travis of course was already aware of it having known Liam longer than Harry and Nish. Harry had been indifferent not having any experience with fantasy as a genre, his relatives were adamantly against any kind of magic. Be it the performance variety or as a subject of fiction. The one time he had brought home a fantasy book, as part of an assignment from school, his aunt had flipped her lid and called to the school to complain about covering inappropriate material.

When the prospect of starting a game was raised, hesitantly at first, Travis had agreed wholeheartedly, while Harry decided to just go with the flow of the group. Though initially hesitant, once Nish heard about the idea of a bard he was excited to give it a try as well. So after a few weeks of planning and asking the teachers if they could use a classroom their game had begun.

Liam ran the game since he had the most experience out of everyone in the group, as well as being the only one to own the dice necessary. Travis played a barbarian named Uther. While the boy wasn’t dumb himself, he apparently enjoyed pretending to be because he gave his character a comically low intelligence stat. Nish had, of course, created a bard character named Zethyr, who he explained had the dream of being part of an epic ballad that he himself would write. Finally, Harry looked down at his sheet detailing the paladin Percival, whose name Harry had stolen from the Arthurian knight they had studied in their literature class this year.

He had initially been drawn to the paladin class because of their description of following a code of honour. Harry decided that his paladin would live by the three virtues: responsibility, honesty, and diligence. His friends had all teased him about having a lack of imagination but Harry had chosen them for a different reason.

Ever since the start of school Harry had been fascinated by the idea of the virtues, of living according to these rules, so he was using the game as something of a trial run. Liam, it turned out, was a very good actor and loved to put the characters that his friends played in interesting roleplay scenarios rather than just having them constantly fight monsters. So a month or two into their game Harry had secretly gone to him and said he wanted to add more to Percival’s backstory.

Harry explained that Percival had been raised by people who hated and mistreated him and that he had eventually run away from home to escape their abuse. While he was running he found the order that taught him how to be a paladin. Liam hadn’t known the way the story mirrored Harry’s own life but he had loved the idea and eventually built an encounter with the family that Percival had run from.

Harry tried to imagine what it would be like to go back to the Dursley house as he was now, how he might act differently, what he would say to them. It hadn’t been easy and in the end, Travis and Nish had their own characters barge in and change the nature of the encounter. Afterwards, Nish had given Harry a worried look and asked if he was ok. 

As good of friends as Travis and Liam were Nish was still Harry’s closest. He was the only one with a sense of what Harry’s home life was like, so he could guess at what Harry had been trying to do with the game. It wasn’t perfect but Harry still thought it helped a bit and Nish had just figured that instead of going home when school ended Harry could sneak into his house and live there over the summer. Harry had laughed at the idea, but a part of him wasn’t against giving it a try.

Harry was eventually pulled fully back to the present when Travis, who had rolled the highest in the initiative round started with his favourite phrase,

“I would like to raAAAGE!”

After beginning his rage Travis’ barbarian rushed the lich king and swung his mighty greataxe. The hit landed for massive damage, a wonderful starting blow for the adventurers. The lich king responded by summoning a small army of skeletons to keep the adventurers at bay so he could attack from range. Harry, however, knowing that they were facing a lich, had prepared the spell turn undead that morning and ruined the lich’s plan by decimating his summoned forces. Travis continued to harry the enemy, “pun intended,” Travis said cheekily and drove him into a corner for Harry to flank. The lich tried to fight back with large scale fire magic but Travis’ massive HP pool made the attacks barely an inconvenience, and Harry somehow had the devil’s own luck in his dexterity saves. 

Finally, the fight was reaching its end the lich huddled in the corner and it was Harry’s turn. Nish who had been holding his action cast his final bardic inspiration, strengthening Harry’s next attack in the hopes of finishing the brutal battle. Travis who had been the tank for most of the fight was now holding back to preserve his last few hit points and had drunk his last healing potion just in case. Harry raised his sword and attacked using his final spell slot to imbue his attack with the power of a divine smite. Harry rolled the dice praying for a good outcome and his heart leapt at the sight of a natural 20 giving his attack double damage. The three adventures leapt to their feet and cheered, startling the now snoozing teacher in the corner of the room. Liam smiled at the exultation of his friends and began to describe the results of the hit.

“As Percival’s shining blade filled with divine light crashes into the chest of the lich king like a bolt of heavenly lightning your undead foe seems to inflate slightly before light burst forth from his eyes and mouth, even leaking from around the blade of the sword still jutting out of him. Slowly the light brightens until it is impossible for you to look at it without being blinded, when suddenly with a great woosh, like the sound of fire suddenly igniting, there is one final brilliant flash and then the light vanishes. You open your eyes and the lich is no more all you see are ash particles lazily drifting in the air and the lich’s twisted golden crown falling to the ground and coming to rest at Percival’s feet. The darkness that had blanketed the skies of Anatolis for centuries begin to dissipate and you see as finally sunlight is returned to what was once called the kingdom of endless night.”

Harry, Nish, and Travis applauded at their friend’s storytelling prowess.

“Wow,” Nish said, “so is that it, did we win?”

“Yeah,” Liam responded, “you finished that campaign, now I suppose your characters go off and live the rest of their lives enjoying all of the riches you found.”

“I got to say,” Harry joined in the conversation, “you came up with a really good story.”

Liam blushed at the praise and began to deflect, “Nah, you only think that because I ripped off a lot of elements from my favourite books. The entire sequence where the council of trees debated on whether to give you directions or not was stolen directly from The Lord of the Rings.”

“It doesn’t matter if you came up with it or not,” Travis added, “The way you told it definitely made it better and kept it fun for all of us.”

“Thanks, guys,” Liam finally said, accepting the praise.

“Still,” Travis continued, “I can hardly wait for next year when we start our next campaign it is going to be awesome once we all have dice and stuff.”

“Yeah,” Harry said, “what should we do for the last few weeks of classes though, now that we have finished.”

“We can use this time to prepare,” Liam said, “we can come up with all of your new characters, I can plan the new map for you to travel through. We can even work to develop more backstories for your characters. I really liked Harry’s idea of having the backstories of your characters work into the campaign in some way and if I know about them beforehand I can do more with them.”

With that comment, Nish finally joined the conversation saying, “Hey, and maybe we can get Harry to pick a character that isn’t just himself with a sword and shield.”

That got a chuckle out of the boys as they finished picking up their papers and other supplies. The teacher in the corner finally took that moment to check his watch and after seeing the time, stood from his chair and began to collect his things as well. As he worked he said to the gathered youths.

“Alright, boys, glad to see that you had fun but it is time you wrapped up and headed off to your dorm.”

“Ok,” Liam responded, “Thanks for letting us use your room again Mr Charles.”

Mr Charles, who was one of the school’s language arts teachers, was one of the more unremarkable faculty members in Harry’s eyes, but he did like that the man would so often let them use his room for their games. Apparently, he and Liam had a good relationship stemming from their shared love of literature. There had been some days when he showed a lot of interest in the boys’ game, particularly when they dealt with role-playing like in Harry’s proposed scenario, but on the days where there was mainly combat, such as today, he seemed less interested. 

As the boys walked back to the dorm they animatedly recalled some of their favourite moments from the campaign. Nish recalled the time his bard had to distract an entire room full of guards with a performance so that the rest of the party could sneak into a treasure vault. Travis then boasted about the time his character had to single-handedly hold a dragon at bay while Harry tried to revive Nish after he failed to charm the dragon with a song. Nish countered that by recalling how Travis, while going through a particularly long streak of rolling 1’s on his attack rolls, had almost died against a kobold fighter, one of the weakest mobs in the game.

Upon arriving at the dorm the small group of friends said their goodbyes and melted into the activity that was taking place as the occupants of the dorm all got ready for bed. Many of the boys were showering to clean themselves up after playing various sports, Others were sitting in their bunk doing some last-minute work on assignments, or studying for the finals that were coming up in just a few weeks. Harry and Nish followed their own nighttime routines, putting away their school supplies, and changing into pyjamas. A few moments later found Harry lying in bed thinking about the day. This was a habit he had developed young as he often found himself locked in his cupboard early in the evening because his relatives didn’t want to deal with him.

As he lay there he thought about what had happened that evening. Their campaign was over. With that thought, Harry’s mind flashed back to the events that led up to them starting their long-running game. Particularly the day he had stepped in when Chester Wiggins targeted Liam. Harry always thought of that day as the day he had fully accepted his own paladin-like oath, to try his hardest to live up to the three values of Stonewall and live in a way that wouldn’t leave him feeling powerless. Ever since that day he had loved living here. He had great friends that supported him, teachers he respected and admired, plenty of food and freedom to do what he wished. This school had become a paradise for Harry, and he was afraid. 

Every other good thing in his life had been taken away by the Dursleys, any friend he made was chased off by Dudley or refused by Vernon and Petunia. Any time he succeeded at school he was scolded for showing off. Once he had merely been playing with a stick in the garden and his aunt had been so angry she yelled at him calling him a freak, snatched the stick from his hand and snapped it in two. He was terrified that he would come home and they would somehow know he was happy, they would know he loved it here and would never let him come back. Against his will, the powerless feeling began to well up in his chest. He thought back to the last time he felt this way, during the session he had suggested to Liam.

When the encounter started he had tried to embody the persona of Percival that he had been building. A man of virtue who loved justice, who was strong when others needed him. He had stood up to his character’s family and stated.

“You have no power over me, I won’t hate you but I wish to never see you again.”

Harry had thought for a long time about what he would say in the situation he had planned. He wanted to tell them that he didn’t hate them. Harry never wanted to hate them, he saw what hate could do. Saw that it made his relatives into ugly people that he refused to imitate. Saw it when Chester whispered racist terms at Nish. No, Harry didn’t want to hate them but he also didn’t want them to have power over him, to be subject to their rules and unfair treatment. He was saying this as Percival to practice it for when he went home, and for a moment he thought it was working. 

Harry didn’t hold what had happened next against Liam, he didn’t know the whole truth. For him they had been playing a game and Liam had just wanted to tell the best story he could. So he didn’t realize that Harry’s reaction to his response was real,

“Oh, YoU wOn’t HatE uS,” Liam responded mockingly in the cold twisted voice he had given to these characters, “how dare you say that, after everything we did for you, taking you in, feeding and dressing you. You ungrateful maggot, you have the nerve to come here and pretend like you’re better than us just because you joined some mystic order of cooky sorcerers. Before you were just a drain on our house’s resources, now you become some kind of self-righteous freak!”

Suddenly the image in Harry’s mind was replaced, he was no longer the strong and imposing figure of Percival standing before the cruel family he had left behind. He was once again small insignificant Harry Potter, looking up at the looming figures of his aunt and uncle as they berated and insulted him for being ungrateful, and lazy, and thinking he was better than everyone else, when in fact he was the worthless son of worthless parents who had gone off and died in a drunken car accident because they didn’t understand a thing about responsibility. Harry’s chest felt cold and he began to shrink into himself. Powerlessness in the face of his relatives struck him like a wave that was impossible to fight against.

“STOP!” a voice suddenly shouted.

Immediately everyone at the table froze and they stared at the stormy face of Nish. Even the teacher in the corner of the room had been startled by the boy’s forceful demand. Seeing the wide-eyed shock in his friend’s eyes, however, made Nish’s anger melt into bashfulness as he collected himself.

“I-I mean that’s what Zathyr says.” Nish hedged, “Using his keen elf senses he was able to hear the conversation that was happening so he barges into the room and interrupts.”

Liam’s face switched to one of excitement at the sudden development. “Well, unfortunately, the Lord Vensly had the door locked so you would have to pass a strength or dexterity check to barge into the room.”

“Could I help him?” Travis had then asked, wanting to take part in the action.

What had originally been a scene of Harry’s character being berated by his family was then changed as his friend’s characters exploded into the room and both began to vehemently defend their friend. The distraction gave Harry the time he needed to collect his thoughts and reassume the strong persona of Percival the paladin.

“Enough,” Harry said, calling for a stop to the verbal attacks that his party members were throwing at the other character. Nish of course had to throw in one last insult comparing the character’s mother to the backside of a troll before he stopped to let Harry speak.

“You can say what you like about me,” Harry had said, “but my point still stands. We are done. I will never darken your doorway again and ask that you show me the same courtesy. All we need is any information you have on the ancient house of Rayze.” From that point on the session continued as normal but Nish would sometimes look at Harry sideways, worry flashing in his eyes. 

That night after lights out, however, Harry heard Nish speak quietly to him.

“Your family must be worse than I thought.” He said.

Harry considered just staying quiet, pretending that he was asleep, but he then remembered Nish’s outburst during the game. For a moment he had been angrier than Harry had ever seen him. Harry always saw Nish as a playful jester who never took things too seriously, so the contrast to how he had acted that night had been jarring.

“How did you know I needed help?” Harry finally asked.

“You have heard some of the things Wiggins says to me right?” Nish began, “Well, to be honest, I can mostly ignore him because he’s pretty tame compared to some of the stuff I have heard people say to my parents. They don’t get it from everyone, most people don’t seem to even notice that we are a different race from them, which is honestly how I prefer it. But every once in a while we run into some jerk that feels like he needs to remind us how unwanted we are. My Dad is really good at just ignoring them. He used to tell me that everything they say comes from hate bred by ignorance and that the best comeback we can give is to live our lives happily, while they let hate destroy theirs. My mom though, she tries but I have seen her sometimes react as you did, and when I see it happen I can’t just sit back.”

Nish paused then and Harry quietly contemplated what he was being told. After a moment Nish continued his voice showing a bit more of his normal levity as he spoke.

“Actually, the one time I got suspended from school was because of something similar to this. My Mom was at a parent/teacher meeting at school and the teacher was talking about how I wasn’t doing well in their class. He was one of the teachers I always talked back to so he didn’t like me, but I am pretty sure I only started talking back to him because he seemed to not like me from the beginning. Anyway, he started to tell my Mom about how disruptive I was in class and he said that he wasn’t sure what kinds of values a home like mine was teaching me but that they weren’t enough.”

“What did you do?” Harry prompted, curious about what his friend’s response had been.

“Well, when I saw that my Mom didn’t like what he was saying I stood on his desk and told him he was an asshole who was only good at teaching kids how to spit the same crap out of their mouths that he did.”

Harry found himself chuckling at the insult and he was soon joined by his friend below him. Eventually, their mirth died down and Nish finished his story.

“Unfortunately the principal had been walking by outside and I hadn’t been very quiet when I said it. She came barging in and I was suspended for a week. Though honestly, it wasn’t much of a punishment, as soon as my dad heard the whole story he gave me a pat on the back and said he was proud of me for standing up for my mother. Though he did say I shouldn’t be such a little turd if I had to do it in the future.”

The comment sparked off another laughing fit in the two boys, who tried to stay as quiet as possible so as not to bother their neighbours. When they had finally quieted down they both lay in silence for a moment before Nish spoke again.

“Did they ever hurt you? Your family I mean.” Nish asked

Harry sighed, a part of him had hoped that the original topic of their conversation would have been forgotten but it appeared his friend had a better memory than that.

“No,” Harry replied, “not physically at least.”

Harry paused for a moment before correcting himself, “Well that’s not entirely correct either. My cousin would get rough with me, but he would get rough with everyone. He also made sure to never leave noticeable marks. When he was young he gave a kid a bloody nose once and the teacher got him in serious trouble. As dumb as he was he could be pretty clever so he and his gang avoided hitting the faces of his victims. My aunt and uncle though, never really hit me. Sure they may have smacked me lightly if I did something wrong but most of their energy was spent telling me how worthless I was. Their favourite name for me was freak.”

Harry wasn’t comfortable sharing all of this with his friend. He felt shame that he had lived through it, and he feared that it would be too much for Nish. But, the virtue of honesty came to his mind. Nish had asked so Harry gave him part of the truth. He couldn’t bring himself to give the whole truth though. He didn’t mention the closet under the stairs, or the countless hungry nights, or the relentless chores lists, or the constant disparaging of his late parents. All these other scars were hidden away. In his mind Harry strapped armour over them, armour forged from the three virtues that he now held so dear. He prayed that as time passed those scars would stay there so that they could never hurt him again so that they could fade into nothingness.

“You know it is funny,” Nish said, ending the silence that had hung between them. “When I got back from the suspension the principal met with my parents and me and told us about Stonewall as an option for school. I wonder if she knew that it didn’t match all of the rumours about what life is like here.”

Harry was confused for a moment at the fondness in Nish’s voice as he talked about the principal. “Wait,” he said, “Wasn’t the principal just as bad as the other teacher you mentioned. The one that hurt your Mom.”

“Nah,” Nish said, “She was actually incredibly fair. I really liked her. In fact, I heard after the school year ended that she fired that other teacher after catching them making fun of another student for their race.”

“Huh,” Harry said in surprise.

“Not sure how you should feel about her though,” Nish continued, “Thanks to her telling my parents about this place you got stuck with me as a friend for the rest of your life.”

Harry smiled at Nish’s comment and responded, “Well when you put it that way I guess she wasn’t all bad.”

With that final comment, the two boys rolled over and went to sleep with smiles on their faces. Harry even began to be happy that he had ended up sharing so much of his past with Nish. Those harsh memories once so filled with pain now being tied to this moment where the boy’s friendship was tempered into an unbreakable bond.

* * *

The morning after the end of their Dungeons & Dragons campaign. The four boys once again found themselves sitting around a table. Only this time they were eating breakfast and planning what they would be doing for the day once classes were done.

“Now that we have finished the game we should probably use some of that time to revise for finals and work on any unfinished projects,” Harry suggested.

Nish grunted noncommittally, still in the process of coming to full wakefulness. The other two boys, however, were alert enough to be more vocal in their responses.

“I suppose you’re right.” Travis sighed.

“Yeah,” Liam added with a touch more excitement, “I still have to put the finishing touches on my critical response to _ Sir Gawain and the Green Knight _ for Mr Charles’ Literature class.”

Though none of the boys was particularly studious by nature they were all pretty good at staying up to date on their classwork mainly by following the example that Harry gave to them. Throughout the entire school year, Harry had been able to fulfil his goal of completing every assignment on time and he actually managed to do pretty well on most of them. He may not have the highest grades in his classes but he was often in the top half of scorers.

Suddenly Travis, who was sitting opposite Harry that morning, seemed to see something over Harry’s shoulder. Curious Harry turned around to see what it was and saw Mr Thomas approaching their table. The man moved with a smooth gait that belied how swift it was because it seemed in the next moment he was beside their table. 

“Good morning gentlemen,” the teacher greeted in his usual pleasant tone of voice. He paused as the four boys all offered their own greetings. “Mister Potter,” He then said, meeting Harry’s eyes, “After you finish eating could you please report to the Headmaster’s office he wishes to speak to you.”

Harry was slightly shocked. He hadn’t had much direct contact with the Headmaster after the one meeting where they discussed his homemade uniform. Throughout the school year, there were a few assemblies where the Headmaster would address the student body as a whole, and sometimes he could be found in the halls between classes where he would offer kind, though brief, greetings to the students. Other than those circumstances, Harry only knew of people being asked to see the Headmaster if they had broken one of the rules, or they were not performing well in their classes.

“Have I done something wrong sir?” Harry asked hoping for some reason that he would be called.

Mr Thomas smiled calmly and spoke in a reassuring tone. “No,” he said, “This meeting isn’t related to disciplinary action. Unfortunately, I wasn’t given details but I do know that your record this year has been impeccable.”

Harry nearly slumped to the table in relief but he instead settled for a quiet sigh. “Ok,” He said to the teacher, “Thank you for telling me I will go as soon as I finish.” 

“Good,” Mr Thomas finished before turning on his heels and walking smoothly away.

Once the teacher was a few table lengths away from the group Nish spoke quietly now fully awake. 

“All right, it’s official that man is a robot.”

Liam and Travis both gave quiet chortles while Harry just sighed at the tired joke. Ever since the beginning of the year when they finished their first math class with Mr Thomas Nish had been making the same comment about the man.

“Why do you think that? “ Harry asked.

“It is obvious. He shows no emotions, he moves in an inhumanely smooth way and the fact that he is so good at math must mean that he has a calculator in his head. Him being a robot is the only explanation that makes sense.” Nish ranted. “Here is what I think, the Headmaster was in a secret government agency that was trying to replace human soldiers with automatons…”

Harry tuned out Nish’s latest sci-fi explanation for where he believed Mr Thomas to be from. Harry hadn’t had the best first impression of the man himself so he couldn’t fault his friend for not particularly liking the teacher. In their first meeting, when the man had given Harry a tour of the campus, Harry had seen the man’s polite tone as disingenuous, like he was a salesman trying to convince Harry that Stonewall was worth his time. However, as Harry observed him throughout the year he began to change his presumptions. 

It was clear by how diligent he was in his lessons that Mr Thomas wasn’t just acting the part of a teacher, he truly believed in the mission that Stonewall High School was trying to achieve. Nish was also wrong about him not having emotions. He just always had them under control. In the opening ceremony, Harry had been impressed by the Headmaster because of his calm and confident personality. He appeared to be in complete control of himself. Speaking in D&D terms though if the headmaster had an 18 in his self-control stat then Mr Thomas had a 20. He never acted on impulses, always reacting to a student with the appropriate response. 

That didn’t mean he was slow to react, however. In one of the earlier classes, one of the students had attempted to lob a wad of paper at the trash can. Seemingly without looking Mr Thomas’ hand had shot out like a lightning bolt and snatched the paper from the air. He had then quietly walked to the student’s desk and told him to please throw away his trash correctly.

Just as with the Headmaster, Harry was fascinated by the man. Harry knew from his experience with Dudley that many bullies were just trying to get a reaction from you. If he could have the level of self-control he saw Mr Thomas exhibit, then he would likely be impervious to much of his cousin’s bullying.

Turning back to his food Harry began to eat a bit more quickly. As he finished his meal he tuned back in to the conversation that his friends were having around him. They had apparently switched from talking about Mr Thomas himself to discussing the latest assignment that he had given them. He silently chuckled at Nish’s lamentations about multiplication tables and was soon finished eating. 

Standing he collected his tray before addressing his friends. “I’m going to go see what the Headmaster is calling me for. Could you guys carry my stuff to class for me?”

“No problem,” Nish responded, “It’s always a privilege to be your manservant milord.”

Harry smiled ruefully at the joke which had become a running gag for the boy ever since the day Harry had run off to confront Wiggins. Since then Harry always made sure to carry Nish’s stuff for at least the same amount of time that Nish had carried his. Nish always said it was unnecessary but Harry wanted to make sure there was no doubt in the boy’s mind that Harry saw him as an equal. Bidding the other boys farewell, Harry left to deposit his tray back in the kitchens and make his way to the office.

* * *

A few minutes later Harry entered the reception area to the Headmasters office. It was nearly as spartan as the office itself with a few plain chairs set against the wall opposite to the desk of Mrs Banks, the Headmaster’s receptionist. She was a nondescript middle-aged woman with greying auburn hair and hazel eyes which were made all the more visible due to the thick glasses she would sometimes wear while working.

As Harry entered the room she looked at him. Upon seeing the boy her face displayed a warm patient smile and she simply said, “Yes?” asking for an explanation.

“I’m Harry Potter,” Harry introduced himself, “I was told the Headmaster called for me.”

“Ah wonderful,” The woman said in recognition, “Please have a seat and I will let Mr Jacobs know that you are here.”

Harry followed the instructions sitting on the edge of the closest seat. He felt a small bit of anticipation bubble in his stomach at not knowing the purpose of the meeting. He watched as Mrs Banks stood from her seat and poked her head into the door. After a short exchange, the receptionist returned to her seat and continued working. A few seconds later the door to the Headmasters office was filled with the imposing figure of Headmaster Jacobs himself.

His eyes immediately found Harry and he offered a terse greeting, “Mr Potter, good. Come in.” He then stood to the side allowing the boy plenty of space to enter the office. Harry quickly stood and made his way through the door. As soon as he was inside the Headmaster closed the door behind him and walked back around his desk to sit down. 

“Have a seat,” the Headmaster said.

Harry noticed that Jacobs did not say please. But he wasn’t being rude by purposefully omitting it. Instead, he spoke with the tone of someone who had become very accustomed to being obeyed when he gave instructions. As soon as Harry had settled into his chair the Headmaster began to speak.

“Harry, I would like to begin by letting you know that you are not in trouble in any way,” Jacobs said. “Judging by the reports I get from the faculty you have been an exemplary student throughout the year. Something you should be very proud of.”

Harry’s chest swelled slightly at the praise. “Yes sir,” he responded, “I was aware. Mr Thomas explained that to me when I was told that you wanted to see me.”

“Ah,” Jacobs said, “Good to know. The reason I wanted to speak to you is related to the one meeting we had closer to the start of the year concerning your uniform. Do you remember?”

“Yes sir,” Harry responded, sitting up straighter as though to show off the condition of his uniform.

Jacobs’ lips twitched into a small smile at the boy’s display. “Good, and I see you took my advice about how you present yourself to heart. Another thing to be proud of.”

After finishing that sentence however Jacobs let out a small sigh and the smile left his face. He had dealt with children from hard homes many times over the years and he knew he had to tread delicately when trying to broach the subject of their upbringing.

“What I wanted to speak about with you today are the circumstances that lead to us needing to have that first meeting,” Jacobs said. 

Harry’s face showed confusion. He didn’t fully understand where the Headmaster was leading the conversation, but as Jacobs continued to speak Harry realized what the man was talking about.

“Harry, I looked into the information that your family gave about their finances on the paperwork that they filled out when you were enrolled. I know that your Uncle is in sales for the industrial dill company Grunnings. I also know that he is doing fairly well in that department. I know that your cousin is attending Smeltings Academy, a private school that does not require a tuition cost that would bankrupt your guardians. All these facts together let me know that there is no financial reason that you should have been sent here with homemade uniforms and if reports are to be believed very little stationery and no funds to purchase more.”

Jacobs paused briefly to allow what he said to be processed, and to take stock of how the boy would react. He was not pleased with what he found. When he had entered the room and heard the Headmasters praise the boy had been showing clear signs of contentment. Now his face was completely emotionless. It was like he was a turtle that had drawn into its shell to hide any part of itself that could be wounded, but his ability to hide wasn’t perfect. Jacobs was a man who prided himself on how well he could read people and deep in Harry’s eyes there was still a spark of fear. Jacobs had dealt with enough children from similar situations to recognize it.

Upon seeing the boy’s response Jacobs continued speaking, “Remember Harry you are not in trouble. I bring this up because I want to let you know that Stonewall is here to help. There are people we can call if your home is not a safe place.” He said. Trying to extend a helping hand. 

“It wouldn’t help.”The boy responded quietly. Jacobs froze and waited for the boy to continue.

In Harry’s mind, he was going through everything that had been said in the office so far and trying to think about how best to explain his situation without sharing too much. The image that Harry had of the Headmaster wouldn’t allow for him to not accept the man’s words as genuine. To Harry, the Headmaster was the utmost example of the three virtues and so his offer for help must be honest. But Harry had met good people before and the Dursleys were always one step ahead.

“I had a teacher once who was concerned that I was so much thinner than my cousin,” Harry explained. “She must have reported it because a man from an agency dropped by our house later and started to look around. They showed him the second bedroom upstairs and said it was mine. They told him how I was adopted and difficult to deal with because I refused to eat anything and I broke all my toys. When the man left they made me tell them who I had talked to and I told them the truth, that I hadn’t talked to anyone and that only one of the teachers ever asked me about what life was like at home. A few weeks later that teacher was fired after my aunt complained that she was slandering our family.”

When he had finished explaining Harry looked up at the Headmaster’s eyes. The fear was stronger in them now.

“Please don’t try to get them in trouble. They are prepared and if you do they will just move me to another school. I really like it here, I can live with them for the summer as long as I get to come back here.” Harry said.

When Harry finished Jacobs’ face was set in stone. Anger burned in his belly at the incompetence of the people that left this boy in an obviously abusive home. Taking a deep breath Jacobs calmed himself and filled his voice with as much sincerity as he could as he began speaking again.

“I am so sorry that you were failed by the system that was supposed to protect you. I can see that Stonewall has become a very important place for you and I promise that I will not do anything that could jeopardize your place here.”

Relief flooded through Harry when he heard the man’s promise. He wouldn’t lose his place at Stonewall. “Thank you, sir,” Harry said sincerely.

“Your welcome Harry,” The man responded, “Now I have kept you long enough. Get to class, I have some thinking to do.”

“About what sir?” Harry asked.

“About your situation.” the man said, “I am not satisfied with just getting you out of that house for the school year. You deserve better, and I am going to do my utmost to give it to you.”

Harry smiled at that and offered one last thank you before he left the office.

* * *

Headmaster Jacobs stood at his window looking out as he thought. The view wasn’t spectacular but it did allow him to see the majority of the campus. It helped him focus on what was most important; the students at his school. It had been a few hours since Harry Potter had left his office and he was still trying to work out the options available to him.

Every once in a while he would have a flash of frustration at the boy’s predicament. All reports from Harry’s teachers showed him as an exemplary student in regards to his conduct. Not only that but he even showed leadership qualities by helping to improve the work of two other classmates he spent time with, Nish Kumar and Travis Willingham if he remembered the reports correctly. How could a family be cruel to such a child? 

Once more Jacobs considered then rejected the idea of just calling NSPCC to get the child removed from the home, but he had made a promise to not jeopardize the boy’s enrollment at Stonewall, and as much as he wanted to trust the system there was a chance of the same thing happening again which Jacobs was sure would result in the outcome that the boy feared.

If Jacobs wanted to find a way to get Mr Potter out from under his relatives he would need to think like them, to come up with a scenario that they would see as desirable while still getting the result he wanted. Sadly he had painfully little to go on.

He would have liked to get more information about the boy’s home life but it was painfully obvious that even sharing the small bit of information he had this morning had been hard on the boy. Jacobs didn’t have the heart to push for more. But even without more first-hand accounts from Harry, he did have the information that had been given concerning Harry with his enrollment. Harry’s aunt and uncle had complained extensively about how disobedient and difficult Harry was, also in the story Harry shared they had immediately blamed him for the appearance of the social worker at their door. It appeared that the boy’s aunt and uncle saw him as a source of trouble for their lives and that they had sent him here due to the school’s disciplinarian reputation. Perhaps he could use that.

Rushing to one of his file cabinets and opening the top drawer, he flipped through folders before pulling out the correct document. Sitting back at his desk he began to reorganize the papers from Harry Potter’s file that had been strewn about like a spilt deck of playing cards. He had spent the last few hours poring over it before taking a break to stare out his window and process. Now that he had a plan he sorted through the pages, organizing them as he went, and eventually found the contact information for the Dursley household. With all of the pieces now in place, he pressed on the intercom to call Mrs Banks.

“Mrs, Banks, I will be busy on a call for the next 45 minutes please take messages if I receive any calls,” he said 

“Of course sir,” Mrs Banks replied in a professional tone.

* * *

Petunia Dursley sat in her kitchen reading one of her favourite gossip magazines and enjoying the silence that came from her empty home. Vernon would still be at work for another hour or two so she could wait a bit longer before starting dinner. She enjoyed having leisurely days like this, and now that Dudley was off at smeltings she didn’t have to worry about him making a mess of her home giving her even more free time.

That’s not to say she didn’t miss her darling boy, and she eagerly counted down the days to when he would return. His letters had said that he was thinking about picking up boxing and she was sure he would excel at the sport. His grades weren’t that great but he was a growing boy so filled with energy that she was sure he just didn’t do well in a classroom setting. He would grow out of it for certain.

Her reading was interrupted by the phone ringing. She took a moment to try and puzzle out who it could be. Most of the phone calls the Dursley house received came from her husband’s work where either his subordinates or superiors would call to ask for more information about something. During the day any phone calls normally came from one of the neighbourhood ladies spreading around one rumour or another, and when it came to rumours Petunia was very rarely one of the last people to know. 

Walking to the phone Petunia went through all the information that could have prompted a phone call at this time. Unable to come up with anything, her only option was to talk with whoever was calling her and she picked up the phone right before its third ring.

“Dursley residence, Petunia speaking,” she said in a polite tone.

“Greetings Mrs Dursley, this is Arthur Jacobs headmaster of Stonewall High School. I am so happy that I found you at home.” A deep masculine voice responded to her greeting.

For a moment Petunia was thrown for a loop. She almost never spoke to a man on the phone, any man calling their home was normally calling to speak to Vernon. What’s more, Dudley was at Smeltings Academy so Petunia had no idea what Stonewall was calling them for. Then she remembered, Stonewall was where they had sent the boy.

Lily’s son, the burden that appeared unexpectedly and unwanted on their doorstep eleven years ago. For a moment in a deep nearly forgotten part of her heart there was a brief spark of emotions: pain, grief, sorrow, and shame. Then like a roaring flood that spark was drowned by a wave of jealousy, contempt, and hate. Her previously pleasant demeanour disappeared and her next words came out in a venomous hiss.

“What are you calling for?” she asked, “That boy is your problem until the end of the year in 2 weeks.”

“Indeed,” Jacobs responded, “I am pleased that you seem to understand the nature of my call. I would like to start by saying thank you.”

The man’s calm demeanour caught Petunia off guard. “Thank me? For what?” she asked back.

“For the information, you gave in your nephew’s enrollment papers.” he answered, “the notes you gave about his temperament was particularly enlightening.”

Petunia was somewhat surprised at that, guessing that the boy had finally let his true hooligan nature loose after being forced to repress it in their home. A part of her, though, began to worry about this call. No matter what they put the boy through he never once showed signs of the kinds of abilities that Lily had. Petunia had begun to worry that the boy was like a sealed bottle of soda that was being shaken constantly. As he grew with no signs of freakishness she kept expecting him to burst violently. What if the man was calling because something unexplainable had happened and her family would be held responsible.

“Your welcome,” She continued now with suspicion in her voice, “but I will ask again, Why are you calling? There haven’t been any strange happenings, have there?”

Now it was the man’s turn to pause. Petunia waited expectantly, her worry increasing with each breath as she waited for a response.

“I am not sure what you mean.” the man said. “Your nephew hasn’t acted in a way that we haven’t seen before in the course of running an institution like Stonewall.”

Petunia released her final breath in a sigh of relief and she leaned against the wall as her body relaxed. “Oh, good, good,” she said. 

The Headmaster continued speaking, as though he were ignoring the last exchange. “To answer your question,” he said, “I am calling because even though we have made progress with your nephew I believe there is more that Stonewall can offer him in his…” he paused here as though trying to find the right word, “education process.” he finished.

This made Petunia raise her eyebrow in surprise before prompting the man to go on.

“Here at Stonewall, we have additional programs to aid in the education of students that need extra attention,” Jacobs explained.

‘What kinds of programs?” Petunia asked suspiciously.

“The one I was thinking of in regards to your nephew is the Summer Rehabilitation program. Instead of sending the boy to you for the summer, we would keep him here to go through additional education and work opportunities. We find that students like your nephew benefit from spending more time in a structured environment that is easier for us to provide rather than burdening you more than you already have been.” The Headmaster explained.

Petunia’s eyes narrowed into slits, “So basically we pay you extra and you get a free labourer for the summer.” She said accusingly.

“Nothing so crass as that.” the man responded, “This is a sponsored program put in place to try and improve the students that participate, so it won’t cost you anything.”

Petunia hummed in thought before she continued, “I am not sure.” she said, “It might be good for him but I can’t say for sure until I talk to my husband.”

“Of course,” Jacobs responded, “I wasn’t trying to get a commitment from you right away, I still have to check with a few parties on my end for this to go through. I just wanted to let you know about the option for you and your husband to consider. Why don’t you discuss it tonight and I will call back tomorrow to hear your decision.”

“Very well,” Petunia said, “Call back around this time and I’ll let you know what we decided.”

“Wonderful,” the man said, “Have a good evening.”

‘You as well” Petunia responded reflexively before hanging up the phone.

As she stood in her kitchen pondering the discussion she just had, she couldn’t help but wonder. Could the boy possibly be normal? He was 11 now. Thinking back Lily had shown countless signs of magical ability years before she received an invitation to that horrible school, but Harry hadn’t shown even a single spark. The only truly odd thing about him was that horrid scar on his forehead, but the boy normally did his best to keep that hidden so if you weren’t looking for it you could easily miss it. Maybe she didn’t need to keep the boy so close anymore. One of the main reasons she kept him so hidden was to avoid her family being connected to any form of weirdness. If he showed no signs of magic it might be time they sign him over to someone else and finally be free of his burden.

Glancing at the clock she was shocked at the time and rushed to the kitchen to begin cooking. She wanted Vernon in a good mood when she talked to him, then he would be more likely to agree with her when she suggested they agree to the Headmaster’s proposal.

* * *

Headmaster Jacobs hung up the phone and sat back in his chair after finishing his talk with the Dursley matriarch. He had never been the best at manipulation but he had hoped he gave off an air that made Harry staying at school seem like a punishment. It seemed like the Dursleys really could be motivated to do things if they thought it would be unpleasant for their nephew.

He was also tired from having to come up with all the half-truths and double-speak he had used in the conversation. He held to the virtue of honesty just as much as he encouraged his students to so he wouldn’t outright lie. But, purposefully misleading someone to fulfil his responsibility as a Headmaster was acceptable. Harry deserved better. Tomorrow he would meet with the boy and offer him the chance to stay at the school for the summer. Well, most of the summer anyway, he would still have to go home for the 2 weeks before the next school year began, unfortunately. But 2 weeks were better than a few months.

Pressing on his intercom Jacobs called out to Mrs Banks, “Did any messages arrive while I was on the phone Mrs Banks?” he asked.

“No Headmaster Jacobs,” came her reply.

“Very good,” he said, “Remind me to have another meeting with Mr Potter tomorrow before classes.”

“Yes sir,” she said.

With that done Jacobs began to organize all the papers on his desk into piles based on priority of when they needed to be finished. It was getting late and he always made sure to keep to his schedule so he wanted to get the most important things done before his work hours ended. His sorting done, he pulled out the document that was the highest priority and began to work.


	4. Chapter 4

#  Chapter 4

Cornelius Fudge was done for. No matter how he looked at it he knew that his political career would be over at the end of this term. When he had been first elected he was chosen because he was the safe option. Before him, Bagnold had levied a crusade through the wizarding world trying to root out any wizard or witch that had supported He Who Must Not be Named. Under her rule, the department of magical law enforcement had been empowered to run a full-scale witch hunt, literally. Eventually, when people believed that they had finally cleaned house, she retired and he had been put in charge. The papers described him as humble, stable, a symbol of peace restored. The quibbler had even used the phrase, 

“He’s boring, but after all the excitement I think we could use that.”

Now though, everything was going to hell in a handbasket because one little fact had thrown the whole wizarding world into chaos.

Harry Potter was a squib.

Part of the reason Fudge’s approval rates had been so high, was because much of the wizarding world was waiting for the immortal, all-powerful, second coming of Merlin, who was Harry Potter to show up and lead the nation into a new age of prosperity. Now that was impossible. How could someone incapable of using magic be able to lead wizards? Who would protect them from the rise of the next dark lord, because let’s face it, in the wizarding world there would always be a next dark lord? Harry Potter was a symbol of hope for the future and now that symbol had betrayed the people and they all wanted to take it out on Cornelius Fudge. He sat in his office despondent as he looked at the latest headline of the Daily Prophet.

WIZARDING WORLD IN CHAOS: MINISTRY SILENT!

By Rita Skeeter

He grimaced. Rita Skeeter could be useful if used properly but when she was left to her own devices she would write whatever caught the attention of the masses most. It’s not like the Ministry was being silent maliciously. Honestly for his part Fudge was just lost on how to handle the situation. Being a squib was always a possibility in a wizard family. 

Cornelius had researched it and found that in pureblood families 1 in 20 children was born a squib. The probability just seemed lower because of how few children most pureblood families had. When looking into the causes for squibhood none of the materials Fudge found gave consistent information. Some said that being born a squib was just the opposite of being muggle-born. In one, non-magical children came from magical parents and in the other, the reverse. Other studies seemed to theorize that being a squib was different from being a muggle and they cited obscure studies that reported odd magical readings from the squibs they studied. In the end, however, all findings were inconclusive due to a lack of research subjects and funding. Wizards and witches up to this point didn’t want to know more about squibs, they were a disgrace to most pureblood families and mixed families just assumed they were muggles like one of the parents.

With a sigh, Fudge put down his paper and began to rub the bridge of his nose hoping to ease the headache he was feeling. As he collected himself, there came a knock on his door. He thought about ignoring it but decided that it would be irresponsible to do as the Minister of Magic.

“Enter,” He said, magic making his call perfectly audible to whoever was waiting on the other side of the thick oak door.

Moments later a squat woman in bright pink robes entered. Cornelius frowned a bit trying to remember her name, um-something he thought it was. Unable to place he merely said,

“Yes?” leaving the rest of the conversation to her.

“Thank you for seeing me Minister Fudge, sir,” the woman said with a simper, “My name is Delores Umbridge, I am one of your undersecretaries, sir.”

“I am aware,” the minister said, stretching the truth slightly. His staff had honestly grown to the point where he wasn’t aware of everyone that worked under him personally.

“Of course,” Umbridge said, “sir, I am sorry for overstepping my bounds by approaching you without the senior undersecretary’s approval, but I had some thoughts about the current situation that I wanted to present to you directly.”

Fudge frowned slightly at the breach in the protocol but he admired the woman’s ambition enough to hear her out, plus he was so lost that honestly, he would grasp at any lifeline that would help him survive the current storm.

“While it is slightly precocious,” Fudge said, “I can’t fault someone wanting to go above and beyond the call of duty. I can spare a few minutes, please speak your mind.”

The woman’s eyes flashed slightly with triumph though she hid it quickly.

“Well sir,” she said, “I think that you should see the current events as a great opportunity. It never sat right with me how the wizarding world viewed...” she paused and her smile slipped slightly, “that boy.”

“Who?” Fudge asked, not quite following.

“Harry Potter, sir,” The woman clarified, “why he was but a babe when You-Know-Who’s reign came to an end, but the people all treated it like Harry Potter fought a heroic battle against one of the strongest wizards in history. No one even knows how he managed to survive that dreadful curse. Of course, now that we know the boy is a squib, maybe it wasn’t the killing curse at all maybe the dark lord was using some other form of magic that backfired accidentally and stole the boy’s magic as a consequence.”

Fudge raised an eyebrow in puzzlement. This woman seemed to have interesting ways of viewing the situation but he wasn’t sure about the theories she was spouting.

“I’m sorry, sir,” Umbridge suddenly backtracked, “I got off on a tangent. My point is that rather than relying on pseudo-mythological figures for security like Harry Potter and Albus Dumbledore, shouldn’t they be looking to people like you. The people who have been chosen by the will of the people. You should make a statement telling the world that, even though it may be sad, the boy they all had great hopes for is no more. But they can rest assured that the Ministry will always be here to guide and protect them. The boy may have helped get rid of You-Know-Who but it was the ministry that did all the hard work of finding and imprisoning his followers after all.”

Fudge pondered on the idea, as he did he glanced and saw the headline again. Maybe the Ministry had been silent too long. Looking up at the woman he nodded then grabbed his wand and cast a Patronus.

“Inglewood, reschedule my morning appointments and contact the Prophet. I will be giving them a statement this afternoon.”

His message recorded, Fudge sent out the silvery apparition to contact the undersecretary in charge of his appointment book. Putting his wand away he then pulled out parchment and quill.

“Well Umbridge, take a seat we have a statement to write and I like some of the things you said.”

Umbridge’s smile widened to match the cat that ate the canary.

“Of course, sir,” 

* * *

Harry once again had mixed feelings as he stood in front of the school. At the beginning of the year, he had been nervous at the uncertainty of what the school held but excited to be free of his oppressive family. Now, he was sad that his friends would all be leaving for the Summer holiday but filled with joy that he would be allowed to stay at Stonewall for the majority of it. He smiled as he remembered getting the good news.

He had been called in to see the headmaster the day after their first talk about his home life. He was still somewhat nervous about the uncertainty surrounding his status as a student of the school, but he was trusting that the headmaster would keep his promise about not endangering his ability to return next year. 

“Mr Potter, thank you for coming so quickly,” the headmaster began, “I wanted to speak to you more about what we started discussing yesterday. I want you to know that I have done everything in my power to not break the promise made to you, and I may have found a means to lighten the load of your situation.”

Harry just watched the headmaster as he spoke, not daring to be optimistic that the man would have found some way to help him. As much as he respected and looked up to the headmaster the Dursleys had a nightmarish grip on him, keeping him from fully believing that he would ever be truly free of them.

“We have programs in place that allow us to offer additional education to students, be it behavioural or academic.” Jacobs explained, “To offer this additional education we would keep the students on campus for the majority of the summer holidays. I spoke to your aunt about these programs and, as far as I can tell, she seemed to show interest, though she did say she would need to talk with your uncle before a decision could be made. Before I make the final offer however I want to check with you. I know that you are worried that trying something may lead to you losing your place here, so I won’t move forward if you don’t approve.”

Harry was shocked by what the headmaster was saying. He may have the chance to stay here at stonewall longer and not be forced to go back to that place. It was like a dream come true, he would be free. As joy began to creep in at the thought, however, he began to feel the dark helpless feeling come back. Doubt filled his chest, and he began to wonder what would happen if it didn’t work. Would his uncle be offended by the offer? He was a very suspicious man who questioned anything that seemed too good to him. Would he refuse to leave Harry in Stonewall, thinking that the school was just trying to get more money off of him?

With all of the doubt bouncing in his head Harry opened his mouth to say he didn’t want to risk it but he choked on the words. A single thought drifted to the surface of the mind,

“Are you being honest?”

Like a light vanquishing shadow, that question pushed back the darkness clouding his thoughts. If Harry was being honest then he did want to risk it. He had lived every year of his life suffering under the torment of his relatives and now, here was a man offering him safety and protection. In his mind’s eye, the image of the Dursley’s took the form of a dark beast reaching out for him but their efforts were stymied by the appearance of a shining figure in brilliant armour. The figure wore the face of Headmaster Jacobs and around him the walls of Stonewall rose, offering a place of safety and peace. 

“Yes,” Harry finally said, “please, even if the chances are slim I want to stay here.”

Seeing the desperation in the boy’s eyes the Headmasters resolve steeled.

“Very well Mr Potter, leave everything to me.”

With that final declaration, Harry was dismissed from the office. Two days later, he got the news that his relatives had accepted the proposal. Harry would be staying at Stonewall through July and the first half of August where he would then be sent back for two weeks before returning at the start of his second year. When he had told his friends Liam and Travis had been puzzled at first.

“Why would you be stuck here? You have the best grades out of all of us,” Travis had asked,

Harry had then taken the opportunity to briefly explain his home life. Liam and Travis didn’t know as much as Nish, but they knew enough that after his explanation they both congratulated him and wished him well over the summer. Now the four friends all stood in front of the main school building bidding each other farewell and making promises about the year to come.

“You know,” Nish said, “I am still a little upset that I won’t get the chance to smuggle you into my house. I am sure that my Mom would love you if you got to meet her, and you haven’t lived until you have tried her tikka masala.”

“Maybe next year,” Harry said back, smiling.

The four friends all shared bittersweet moments of farewell as the three that were leaving got on their busses. Liam’s arrived first and he left with a final reminder for each of the boys to find dice. Nish was next, leaving with his typical over the top airs begging them not to miss him too much. Finally, Travis’s bus pulled up and the larger boy clapped Harry on the shoulder.

“You know, when we first met I almost socked you in the mouth because I thought you were bullying Liam. I am really glad I was wrong.” Even though the boy’s words were simple he said them with such warmth that Harry was touched by this admittance.

“I am really glad I got to meet you, Travis, you are a great friend.” Their simple farewells given, Travis got on the bus and then Harry was alone. 

Harry was saddened to lose his friends, but he knew that when summer break ended, they would all come back to this place that Harry was rapidly coming to consider as his true home.

* * *

Harry woke with the sun and smiled as he stretched to work out the stiffness in his shoulders. Getting up from his bunk he put on some shorts and a shirt and made his way outside the dorm building. As he walked out into the morning air he looked up and could see the form of Mr Atkins approaching. 

“Potter,” The man said as he approached, “You going to try and keep up this time?”

“Yes, sir” Harry responded.

The teacher nodded then began running, Harry did his best but he was soon lagging behind the fit man, his shorter legs slowing him down. Harry was a little upset at his poor performance but just kept running as Mr Atkins had told him.

“You are growing,” the man had said, “don’t get discouraged because you haven’t reached your goals yet, just keep trying and eventually you will get there. Be diligent.”

Harry’s habit of trying to run with Mr Atkins in the mornings had started about halfway through the first week of his summer at Stonewall. Harry had still been getting up at an early hour and he had been surprised to still see Mr Atkins here. Many of the teachers had left the campus for a vacation like the students had but a small group of teachers stayed on to work with the boys who were here for additional education. They included Mr Atkins, Mr Thomas, and even Mr, Charles, the man who had hosted the boy’s D&D group in his room. Harry had also taken note that Headmaster Jacobs and Mrs Banks kept their regular office hours.

Eventually, Harry had nervously approached Mr Atkins about possibly imitating his habit. He had originally just gone to ask for some pointers but the man had looked at him and said,

“I thought I saw you outside the dorm this morning. I could use a running buddy if you’re up for it.” 

Harry had agreed and waited on the steps of the dormitory the next morning. What he hadn’t fully appreciated was the man’s dedication to physical fitness. He had told Harry to follow him and had then taken off in a lap around the perimeter of campus. Harry had not been able to keep up and when the man had lapped him he then slowed down to Harry’s pace and would give pointers on how Harry could improve his form. 

“Work on a good form and speed will come,” The man had explained, “Your foundation needs to be strong before you can build anything on it.”

As they ran Harry slowly worked up the courage to ask the man about his past. Mr Atkins had seemed surprised that the boy would ask but gave a brief description of how he ended up there. He had been in the US marine corps and had been assigned to work together with the British forces that Headmaster Jacobs had been in charge of. The men had formed a close bond and kept in touch after their mission had ended. When the headmaster had taken over at Stonewall he had reached out to some of the men he had served with and invited them to work at the school.

“When I first met Jacobs,” Atkins had explained, “the thing that impressed me the most was his character. He told me that by taking over this school he hoped to be there for the kids that everyone else had given up on. I thought it was a good goal so I packed up and came over here to be a part of it. Who knows maybe one day I’ll try something like it back in the states.”

Harry started to admire the man even more and hoped that one day he could run alongside him, but for now, he ran at his own pace working to make sure his form was perfect. When he arrived back at the dorm he went inside and made his way to the shower. Due to the decreased population, there wasn’t a need to wait your turn, but Harry still liked to be one of the first.

As he looked around Harry took note of the other boys in the wing he stayed in. It turned out that most of the boys that stayed during the summer break were older boys trying to recover credits so that they could move on to the next year of schooling. They had either been too lazy in their work or needed extra help to understand it. As a whole though, none of them really wanted to be here. Across the hall in the opposite wing from where Harry now slept, however, were the disciplinary students. They were the students whose conduct had been unacceptable throughout the year. For them, they spent their time, not in class but doing community service. After breakfast, a bus would come and cart them off to a nearby town to work cleaning a roadway or working in a soup kitchen. Harry was the odd man out. His aunt and uncle believed he was here for the behavioural education but the headmaster had told Harry that on record he was here due to special circumstances so that he wouldn’t get any kind of negative mark on his permanent record.

When the headmaster had told Harry this he had also explained that Harry would be given the freedom to spend his time during the summer as he wished. Harry was given a schedule detailing the times and locations of the available classes in case he wanted to sit in on them. He was also allowed to participate in the service projects that were planned for the behavioural students. 

“Treat this time as self-guided study,” the headmaster had explained, “You have shown in the past year that you can be responsible, if your class records are anything to go by, now it is time to be diligent. Show me that your responsibility isn’t dependent on a teacher watching over you. We will be having a weekly meeting and I will expect you to report on how you spent your time, understood.”

Harry had agreed to the man’s instruction and after considering it, decided to spend much of his time in the library. Liam had given him a list of books to read over the summer. Each one was recommended with a glowing review of how well crafted the story was. He had started some of them and while he found the stories interesting he would normally only read a chapter or two and then move on to studying other topics. Due to learning that the Headmaster had been in the military, that became one of his regular areas of study. He learned about the different branches of the armed forces and what each of their functions was. He read histories about the wars that Britain had been involved in. Harry didn’t like the idea of war, it seemed like it was only good for destruction. But, Harry did know that Headmaster Jacobs and Mr Atkins had both been in the military and knew they were good people. He also knew that joining the military may give him a place to belong after he graduated from Stonewall. He wasn’t sure if fighting was something he wanted to do but the idea had taken root in his mind. 

When he finished with his research Harry liked to spend some time wandering the grounds thinking about his findings or daydreaming about the future. Around his third week, however, his routine changed when he made friends with an odd dog that would visit the school campus.

* * *

Sirius felt good being out in the open. As he lay in the grass of a playing field he thought back to the series of events that led him here. He had slipped out of the bars of his cell during winter. When he had seen the paper with that headline Sirius had immediately begun to ponder when the best time to escape would be and decided on December because it got dark earlier, which meant that night would have fallen by the time the barge that brought replacement guards arrived, allowing his black dog form to sneak onto it undetected. 

Once on the barge, Sirius found a nice hiding place behind some crates that were secured on the deck. The captain had gone through the procedure of casting  _ homenum revelio _ to check for unplanned human passengers, but Sirius wasn’t a human at the moment, he was a dog. A very skinny dog who was grateful for the anti-apparition wards, which forced the ministry to ferry personnel to and from the island by barge. When the barge was within sight of the mainland Sirius slipped silently into the water and doggy paddled to shore. It was numbingly cold, but strengthened by his resolve to find Harry, he made it to the shore and loped into some nearby woods. Shaking himself dry, the animagus quickly gathered a bundle of sticks then, after turning back into his shivering human form, lit them with a wandless  _ incendio _ . Once the fire had warmed him sufficiently, he tried to make it last by casting some warming charms then putting out the fire and burying the evidence. Turning back into a dog he took off once more intent on getting as far from Azkaban as possible before first light.

As he made his way south he spent most of his time in his animal form, except for a few moments where he just couldn’t help himself. For example, when he saw his first sunrise in ten years, he turned into a man so that he could feel the rays on his face. It was nearly overwhelming to be free, there were some days where he would simply roll around in the grass for the simple pleasure of it, as both a dog and a man. But no matter the joy he felt, he never lost sight of his goal. He moved constantly south staying hidden as best he could, which was surprisingly easy if he just stayed near muggle areas. 

It was funny, he had often done the same thing with James and Lily when they had been on the run. James and he were somewhat familiar with muggle culture, but with Lily along, they had been able to blend seamlessly in with the crowd. Though they had never been able to stay in one place long. Within a day or two death eaters would show up to give chase. They had always wondered if there was some kind of rare tracking charm being used, but now Sirius was sure that it was just the rat giving their position away. Thinking about Peter caused a nearly uncontrollable rage to overcome Sirius and he had to sit in an alley for a few moments breathing deeply to calm himself down so that he didn’t lose sight of his goal. Once he had control of himself he left to head to the next village. 

While in one muggle town he decided that it was about time he made himself presentable. His human form was still dressed in the dirty prison outfit he had been issued at the start of his stay in Azkaban. There was no laundry in the wizard prison, instead, the guards would come by once a week and blast your cell with a few  _ scourgify _ charms getting rid of any messes that the prisoners had made and cleaning their bodies and clothes. Did he also mention that there were no toilets in the cells? So honestly Sirius was always very happy for cleaning day to come around. Pushing those unpleasant thoughts back into the box he repressed them in, Sirius turned into a human and began walking amidst the crowd. Most people avoided him, probably assuming he was a beggar, but that was fine because he wasn’t exactly proud of what he planned to do.

Figuring he was already a criminal, Sirius used a few wandless and silent summoning charms to nick the pocketbooks of several muggles he passed. After quickly pulling out the money inside he would banish them back the pockets he took them from. Soon he had a respectable amount of money which would allow him to buy a new set of clothes. Entering an alley, Sirius concentrated and risked a transfiguration on his prison outfit. 

“Let’s be honest Sirius, you were never a dab hand at this with a wand so how bad can you do without one?” he muttered, trying to build up his courage.

It wasn’t perfect but in the end, he was able to alter the colour to a neutral grey on top and blue on the bottom. As he moved through the crowd he noticed that his new garb drew less attention so he found a second-hand store and picked out a jacket, shirt and a pair of pants to purchase. 

With his new outfit bought, he made his way to a small inn and he spent the majority of his remaining funds on a room where he could shower and change clothes. He didn’t cut his hair, figuring that any pictures the ministry had of him would be from the start of his incarceration when his hair and beard were much shorter. Sitting down on the bed Sirius decided to take a small risk by staying here for the night.

As he sat in the room he contemplated his current plan. As Harry’s godfather, he had been a part of James and Lily’s planning for what to do if they passed on. That was, sadly, a common conversation amidst couples during the days of Voldemort even for couples as young as they had been. While discussing options for Harry’s guardianship, James asked about Lily’s sister as they were talking about her extended family. Lily had immediately put her at the bottom of all possible names, jokingly stating that she would rather send him to the second cousin she had met once in grade school before her. However, she had let slip that Petunia and her husband lived in the town of Little Whinging. Remembering that the article that had sparked his escape attempt had briefly mentioned that the boy’s whereabouts were unknown and that Lily’s sister was the only muggle name on the list of possible caretakers, Sirius figured that they would be his best bet for discovering the location of his godson. His course set, the escaped convict settled down into a light fitful sleep on the first bed he had used in a decade. 

Waking early the next morning, Sirius collected his prison clothes and put them into the bag he was given for his new outfit. He planned to burn them when he got out into the countryside again. Leaving the room he put the key into the office dropbox and began walking down the street. Now that he was in plainer clothing he figured he could enjoy walking on two legs for a while. As he passed an electronics store however he froze at the image currently on one of the televisions in the window. It was his face. Watching more closely he saw that it appeared to be part of some sort of notice program. He wasn’t very familiar with muggle television but he did remember Lily saying that there would sometimes be showings of current events. Here it appeared that someone in the ministry of magic had the bright idea of telling the muggle authorities to look for him.

“Oh, dragon dung,” Sirius cursed lightly. Lily had been very strict against cursing so the marauders all learned alternatives quickly.

Looking around Sirius noticed that at least one person on the street was watching the screens and then turning to squint at him. Offering a nervous smile to the man, Sirius turned and calmly but quickly walked away turning into the nearest alleyway he turned back into his dog form and made his way out of town. 

Deciding that it was too risky, Sirius avoided towns all together over the next weeks of his travels. He was able to cover a good distance when he had a high place to disapparate from, but most of the ground he was covering was flat plain making it unnecessarily dangerous to try and use apparitions regularly. Instead, he walked or ran in dog form, feeding himself by hunting small game and eating it raw. His canine physiology protected him from sickness caused by his diet, but he did miss food that tasted of something other than blood.

Finally, he arrived in Little Whinging. At nightfall, Sirius transformed back into a man and found a phonebox. Inside, he opened the address book and began searching. He couldn’t completely remember Petunia’s last name, but he was sure it started with a D or a T So turning to the D’s he began to look for a Petunia. It wasn’t until he was nearly at the end of the list that he found Vernon and Petunia Dursley. 

“Seriously who has a name with U as the second letter, it was just plain rude.” He muttered to himself. His rant done, Sirius took note of the address and made his way through town to number 4 Privet Dr. 

Arriving at the home he noted that no lights were visible in the windows. Sneaking around the back, Sirius approached the door that opened to the back garden and tested the handle. Finding it locked Sirius concentrated and cast a wandless  _ alohomora,  _ it took him two tries but he was eventually rewarded with the satisfying click of a lock opening. Sneaking in, Sirius took stock of the house he walked through. It was well taken care of as far as he could see. Knickknacks covered several of the surfaces, making the main living areas feel cluttered. On the walls, he noted a few pictures. He was worried slightly because he could only see one boy in them and there was no way that fat child was the son of the perpetually skinny James Potter. His worries were somewhat alleviated though when he found two bedrooms upstairs each filled with toys.

“Oh no,” he thought, “they spoiled him.”

He wasn’t too worried, with Lily’s blood in him there was no way Harry could turn out too bad. Turning to leave the house, Sirius contemplated checking on the couple but decided against it. 

Harry wasn’t here at the moment, but Sirius was fairly certain he would be returning here. He had a strange feeling about this house though. Why were there no pictures of Harry on the walls? As he looked back into the smaller of the two rooms he began to notice other things, such as the fact that several of the toys appeared to be broken. He also saw that the bed was not made up as the other had been, instead, it was completely bare, just a mattress sitting on a frame. Picking his way through the room Sirius opened the closet to find it empty and with a layer of dust that hinted to it being unused. 

Now Sirius began to worry again. He cursed the fact that he wasn’t proficient with legilimency so that he could peer into the minds of the Dursleys and see the truth. Making his way downstairs he left out the door he entered through, relocking it so that there was no trace he had ever been in the building. Taking a seat in the garden Sirius collected his thoughts and planned what to do. He knew that Harry wasn’t here now. He was unsure if Harry would ever be here, but for now, this was his best lead. As much as he hated it Sirius resolved himself to wait. From calendars he had peeked at during his trip he knew that it was approaching mid-January. It wasn’t long till summer and he had lived ten years in Azkaban, so a few months as a stray in a town like this shouldn’t be too bad. 

As he assumed his new life Sirius learned a few things, like the fact that he did not like Lily’s sister. The first and only time she caught sight of him lounging on the street near their home she had called the dog catcher. Since then he decided to only watch their house in the evenings. His days were normally spent wandering around looking for scraps to eat. As soon as he became somewhat well known there were a few kind shop owners and families that would leave out food for him so he never went hungry. His evenings were spent outside the Dursleys’ house using his keen canine hearing to listen in to their chats. As he did this he worried because the only child they seemed to speak about was “Duddykins” or something. Right as he began to lose hope however he finally got a lead when he overheard a phone call between the wife and another party. He had unfortunately been unable to make out the voice on the other side of the call but he did hear her mention a boy and, by the tone of voice she used, he could tell she wasn’t talking about “Duddykins” again. 

Hiding in the bushes when the husband finally arrived back home from work, Sirius popped back up and positioned himself below one of their dining room windows to catch their conversation at dinner.

“Honey,” Petunia began, her tone showing slight reluctance to broach the topic, “I received a call today from Stonewall High School.”

“Stonewall?” Vernon responded distractedly, “What’s Stonewall? We don’t have any dealing with them through Grunnings I don’t think.”

“No dear, Stonewall is the place where we sent the boy, Harry.”

There was a pause in the conversation. Sirius’s heart leapt. He had been right, Harry was here at some point. Now he just needed to find out what was going on with this Stonewall place.

“What happened?” the man asked, his voice showing hints of fear that he tried to hide behind anger. “He hasn’t finally awakened that freakishness you warned me about has he?”

“I was nervous about the same thing, but no, thank God. From what the headmaster told me he was calling because the boy was a poor student.”

“He hasn’t been kicked out has he?” Vernon asked in an exasperated voice.

“No, to the contrary, the headmaster was offering to keep the boy longer than the regular school year for additional, um, rehabilitation, I think he called it.”

“Oh, so they’re just trying to milk more money out of us.”

“Well, it is apparently a state-sponsored program so it wouldn’t cost us any additional funds.”

“Hmm,” The man growled as he seemed to think, “I don’t trust it. The man works for a state school which means he is in government and people in government are always trying to get good, honest, working people’s money.”

“That may be dear, but think about how this could be a way to finally be free of the burden that my sister gave us. It wouldn’t cause rumours about us because everyone already knows how poorly the boy acts and we could tell them he is in a summer program to help him learn to be a better member of society.” Her husband didn’t respond so she tried one last time, “The headmaster said he would call again tomorrow, could you at least talk to him to see what he says?”

“Alright, what time? The man said back grudgingly

“About 4, I should think, that was about when he called today,” Petunia explained.

“I will have to leave work early, but we don’t have any big accounts to work on at the moment,” Vernon mumbled to himself, “fine, I will be willing to listen.”

Sirius seethed as the conversation moved on. To think that there were muggles that were just as ignorant and small-minded as his family had been. Sirius needed to see his godson. He didn’t know what kind of institution this Stonewall was but if it wasn’t to his liking he would be taking Harry away, consequences be damned. He came back the next night to hear the conversation Vernon had with the headmaster which ended in Vernon agreeing to leave Harry at the school for most of the summer. During that day Sirius had prepared by going through the town as a man and researching where Stonewall was located. He found out it was only one county over, so as soon as he heard that a decision was made he left to start his next trek.

A few weeks later and he arrived. He looked at Stonewall from the top of a nearby hill. He was not impressed by the building. It was stocky and solid, the fences around the campus gave off an oppressive feel that reminded him of Azkaban. He began to fear for his godson and started to form plans on how he would get him out of the place. 

School had still been in session when he arrived in the area so Sirius decided to wait until the population of the facility shrank before he tried to infiltrate. Eventually, he watched as busses carted away students. A few days later he saw automobiles ferry away what he assumed was the majority of the teachers. Finally, it was time for him to act. Turning into a man Sirius apparated passed the fence into a space behind a building. Turning back into a dog Sirius walked out and began to stalk on the grounds. He watched for the places that students normally traversed and finally after three hours of careful observation he saw him. 

Harry looked like a young James Potter. Even in his dog form Sirius couldn’t help but tear up slightly at the messy black hair and spectacles that he was so used to seeing on his lifelong friend. He watched him for two more days from afar, until he couldn’t hold back anymore and had to approach. He waited until an afternoon when the boy was wandering the grounds alone apparently lost in thought. Hesitantly, Sirius left his cover making himself visible to the boy. When he could see that Harry spotted him, he froze. Sirius did everything he could to appear non-threatening, his ears drooped, his head bowed, his tail tucked between his legs, he tried everything short of rolling over and exposing his belly. Fear crept into Sirius’s mind. What if he ran to get a teacher to chase him away? What if the boy tried to chase him off? All of these thoughts flew out of his mind, however, when he saw Harry’s eyes. They were identical to Lily’s, kind warm eyes that almost glowed a bright green. 

Slowly, Harry approached, his hand reached into his bag and pulled out a roll wrapped in a napkin that the boy must have been keeping in case he got hungry. He stopped short of Sirius and placed the roll on the ground, before backing away slightly. Sirius approached trying to appear cautious and ate the roll. He then looked to Harry with an expectant look. Harry held out his hand and Sirius followed his canine instincts to approach and sniff the hand. Harry then reached out and began to scratch Sirius’s head. Sirius allowed his tongue to roll out at the simple pleasure of a head scratch and sat down near the boy’s feet.

“Where did you come from?” Harry asked rhetorically.

Sirius felt the boy’s hands search his neck for a collar. Harry gave up his search a moment later and settled down to pet the dog and look him over. Sirius’s months as a dog had not been too bad on him. His fur was slightly matted on the bottom from his travels but he had eaten enough that even though he was still thin his ribs weren’t showing. Harry’s other hand eventually found its way to Sirius’s flanks and the boy used his fingers as a comb, running them through his shaggy fur. After a few minutes of letting himself be pampered. Sirius stood up and gave the boys hand a parting lick before walking behind a nearby building. He plopped down in the building’s shadow, hoping that he could convince the boy that he was staying there so he would come back. Harry watched him for a few more minutes before standing to leave himself.

So Sirius established himself as the stray dog on campus. Harry would come back to the same area and visit him on most days, normally bringing with him a napkin of table scraps. Sirius watched him and after a few days of observation decided that the boy appeared to be content. As odd as it seemed given the austere surroundings on campus Harry was happy here so Sirius resolved himself to stay as near the boy as he could. 

“Your godfather is here Harry,” Sirius thought to himself, “and I promise you, just like I did to your parents, that I will always protect you.” 


	5. Chapter 5

#  Chapter 5

Hermione sighed as she made her way out of the entrance hall and began walking toward the greenhouses for the second-year herbology final. At her side strode her friend Neville Longbottom. He hadn’t changed much since their first year in school. He was still slightly shorter than her and on the heavier side with straight blond hair which he kept short. He had, however, started to walk a bit more upright than he did in their first year. Hermione and Padma had worked tirelessly trying to convince their friend to be more confident, and he was finally taking their advice. 

Neville could be very intelligent and he had been able to flourish more thanks to his association with the two smart young witches. His speciality was herbology but he could hold his own in any of the subjects they studied at the school. His performance in classes was also greatly improved by him acquiring a wand of his own. Near the end of last year, Hermione had asked him where he got his wand trying to better understand what was holding her friend back in his practical abilities with regards to spell casting. He had confided in her that he was using his father’s wand as a way to remember him. The comment inspired her to look deeper into wandlore, and after reading about wand ownership she began to worry that even though the wand had been his father’s there was a chance that it hadn’t accepted him as its owner and was therefore hampering his abilities.

She had approached him about his wand after their finals were completed, not wanting to distract him during his testing. Neville had listened to her reasoning but after she was done he walked away from her without saying a word. For the next week, he avoided her. Eventually, Padma approached Neville herself and they had a short conversation. When Padma came back to Hermione, the bookish Gryffindor was close to tears with how nervous she felt, thinking that she had lost one of her best friends.

“He says he needs time,” Padma had explained, “He isn’t angry with you because he knows that you are trying to help but the wand is one of his only links to his parents so your suggestion to not use it has upset him.”

“Did you tell him I’m sorry? He doesn’t have to get rid of it if he doesn’t want to, I just was trying-” Hermione’s words were cut off by the Indian witch giving her a hug.

“He knows ‘Mione,” Padma said comfortingly, “You didn’t lose your friend, he just needs time.”

Hermione had been slightly calmer but she was still nervous until on the very last day, as they were boarding the train, Neville finally approached her.

“Thank you for worrying about me enough to try helping,” Neville had said quietly, “I am sorry I have been distant but I needed to come to terms with what you said.”

“So are you keeping your father’s wand?” Hermione asked, then realizing that may push him away again she quickly added, “Because that is fine, wonderful even, it is great that you keep it around to stay connected to them really.”

“I haven’t decided yet,” Neville said simply, then went silent.

The entire ride back to London was quiet and somewhat awkward, but Hermione had been happy to be with both of her friends regardless. As they separated they all promised to keep in touch then each had gone to their families. Hermione’s summer was mostly spent at home, she told her parents about the school and her new friends. She was somewhat upset that she wouldn’t be able to show her parents any of the magic that she had learned thanks to the statute of secrecy, but she couldn’t do anything about it. When Professor McGonagall had first met with Hermione and her parents she had warned her that breaking the statute was grounds for expulsion and removal of her rights to own a wand. She had accepted it but a part of her was unsatisfied that this newly discovered part of herself would have to be suppressed to such a degree. Those same feelings resurfaced as she was faced with the challenge of trying to describe the wonders she was now capable of. Luckily Hermione didn’t have long to dwell on her problems because within the first week of vacation she had received an owl from Padma telling her about the other girl’s summer. 

Padma wrote telling Hermione about the time she was getting to spend in India with her extended family and complaining about the childishness of her twin Parvati who wanted to spend all their time going to the market and looking for new clothes and accessories rather than spend any of it going through the extensive magical libraries that were curated by their ancestors. The Patil line was very prominent in Indian magical circles and had produced many scholars who collected magical wisdom throughout their years. Hermione burned with jealousy as Padma described her plans to look for differences between the magical ideologies in ancient India and the concepts they had touched on during their first year. Hermione wrote back how much she wished for the opportunity to share in the experience and wrote about her woes at being so separated from the magical world, though she did write about some of her own families more mundane plans for the vacation of touring some of the castles that dotted the land. She also wrote that due to Padma’s letter, she now planned to see if there might be any hidden magical history amid the ruins and hoped that they would get the chance to compare notes soon. Her letter written, she happily sent the reply off with the owl that Padma had sent.

As nice as it was having her regular letter communications with Padma, after nearly a month with no contact from Neville, she once again grew nervous that she had somehow damaged their relationship. She began to lament not having an owl of her own so that she could initiate a conversation. Her parents had remarked how much she was acting as they had during the school year, constantly waiting to see an owl outside their window. Her father had said how at one point an owl had landed on the tree in their backyard and the neighbours had caught him trying to coax it down to see if it had a letter from her, but it ended up just being a mundane wild animal. 

“I wish that there was an easier way to identify the owls you sent dear.” Her father had said with a chuckle.

Finally, her long wait ended when she was surprised one evening by tapping on the window from a large eagle owl. It was not the owl Padma usually sent, which Hermione had learned was a mountain scops owl, so she started to get excited that it might be from her other friend. Opening the window Hermione waited for the stern-looking owl to lift its leg where a letter was tied. Upon breaking the seal she was elated to see the handwriting of her only close friend from Gryffindor. Neville’s letter was simple but heartfelt. He told Hermione about his summer, and that he had been late in sending her a letter because his grandma had monopolized their owls since he had gotten home. Apparently, as a member of the Wizengamot, she was very busy dealing with everything that was going on with Harry Potter’s sudden reveal as a squib, Sirius Blacks escape from Azkaban, and now the Minister of Magic starting to make claims about how he would lead the country through these uncertain times.

“Honestly,” Neville had written, “it finally took me standing up at dinner and demanding she let me send one letter for her to give me permission to use Veneration, that’s the name of the owl. If you could please send him back presently I wouldn’t want to upset my grandmother further.”

Hermione was a little surprised that Neville would demand anything, especially of his grandmother who he had always spoken of with fear in his voice, but she was glad he did. She had then quickly written a response saying she was grateful to receive his letter and that she hoped he had a good summer. Closing up her reply she approached the stately bird who looked at her, looked at her letter, then begrudgingly held out his foot. 

The rest of the summer was fairly uneventful, she continued trading letters with Padma and enjoyed the castle tour she went on with her parents. It had ended with a visit to Glastonbury and getting to see the supposed tomb of King Arthur. The tour guide they had been with talked about the supernatural feats of his knights and how some were supposedly incredibly strong and skilled. Hermione now knew that Merlin was a real wizard so she wondered if some of the feats attributed to the knights might have been caused by enchantments or charms that the famous wizard used.

As August came to a close Hermione was once again treated to the arrival of her school letter detailing the materials she would need for the following year. In her latest letter, Padma had lamented that her family planned to stay in India until just before the beginning of the year so they wouldn’t be able to meet up for school shopping and sadly Neville had only had the opportunity to send one other letter throughout the whole of the break making trying to meet up with him impossible. She would be venturing into the magical side of London with her parents without the help of a guide. They were all nervous about the prospect but at the same time Hermione was kind of excited to dive in without a chaperone guiding them, it would be a chance to explore and see more of the wonder that the new side of her life had to offer.

So with September only two weeks away, her parents cleared a day in their calendars and searched through their address book for the location of the Leaky Cauldron that Professor McGonagall had given them a year previous. Hermione kept a tight grip on both of her parents as they approached, keeping them from turning away from the building that they were headed to. Once they were through the door her parents seemed slightly disoriented but it wore off quickly and they were able to make their way to the back garden where the wall was already open as another family exited Diagon Alley. 

Making their way inside, the Granger family took a moment to stare around at the alien environment around them. This was only their second trip to the magical side of the city so nearly everything was still new. Hermione was the first to recover, being the member of the family with the most exposure to magic, so she grabbed her parents hands once more and began to lead them toward Gringotts where they would be able to exchange their money. Her parents quickly regained their wits at the touch of their daughter and refocused on their plans.

In short order, the small family was entering the stately white marble building that housed the wizard bank. Through sheer force of will, Mr and Mrs Granger did not stare at the goblin guards standing by the door, their modern sensibilities not allowing them to do something so rude. Once inside they looked around they took note of the many teller booths which all had long lines of robed individuals waiting to be serviced. Off to the side, however, was a single separate desk with a much smaller line that they remembered as being the desk allocated for the exchanging of muggle to wizard money.

As her family approached the desk Hermione was surprised to see a figure she recognized as Madam Hooch, one of the professors from Hogwarts, standing in line next to an excitable father and son pair. The two were excitedly pointing at things around them and whispering to each other. The Father also had a camera around his neck and would occasionally snap a picture. The professor was standing nearby watching the two with an expression that was a mix between amused and embarrassed. 

“Hello Professor,” Hermione said as they took the place in line behind the woman.

Madam Hooch turned around and gazed down at Hermione, her yellow eyes widening in surprise before she smiled.

“Why hello Ms Granger, what a pleasant surprise. Here to get your second-year books I bet,” the professor responded in a jovial tone.

“Yes,” the girls responded, before motioning to her parents, “My parents and I are taking care of it now, we don’t want to be in a rush at the end of summer break.”

“So these are your parents eh?” the professor said looking at the adults, “I must congratulate you, your daughter has only been in school a year and already she is making waves among the professors as one of the brightest students Hogwarts has had the pleasure of receiving.”

“Thank you,” Hermione’s mother commented, “Hermione has always been a gifted student and we couldn’t be more proud.”

“And what subject do you teach, if I may ask?” Hermione’s father added curiously.

“Oh, I would hardly call myself a teacher if I am being honest,” the grey-haired woman replied, “I only teach flying lessons to the first years, most of my time is spent organizing and acting as an official to the school’s inter-house quidditch league.”

“Flying?” Mr Granger said curiously, “You never said anything about learning to fly dear,”

“Oh,” Hermione blushed as he focused back on her, “I am not very good, and I didn’t really enjoy it so it must have slipped my mind.”

“Oh don’t say that,” Madam Hooch said genially, “you were a bit shaky but you were nowhere near the worst I have seen from a muggle-born’s first try on a broom. I am sure with some practice you would be taking to the sky like a natural.”

Hermione smiled wanly at the encouragement but her dislike of flying stemmed mainly from the disastrous first lesson they had gone through. Neville had lost control of his broom and ended up injuring his arm. As Madam Hooch had been carting him off to the hospital wing, she hadn’t noticed that the boy had dropped the remembrall that he had received that morning in the post from his grandmother. Unfortunately, it didn’t escape the sight of Draco Malfoy, one of the vilest people Hermione had ever met, the boy had grabbed the marble-sized ball and begun disparaging her friend. Luckily all four houses of first years were receiving the lessons at the same time so Padma had been there with her to confront the boy, but he had laughed nastily in her face and told her not to speak to her betters. 

Surprisingly, aid had come in the form of another Gryffindor boy, Ronald Weasley. Ronald and she did not have a friendly relationship. He had in fact been the one to give her the moniker of Ms Know-it-all, but he apparently did not approve of Slytherins taking the same liberties with people of his house and had stepped forward to confront the boy. Their short verbal back and forth quickly degenerated into fisticuffs which were broken up by the arrival of the caretaker Mr Filch who had been in the area. He had physically separated the two boys and both had wound up in detention. Luckily, during the melee, her friend’s bauble had been dropped allowing her to recover it to return to him later. When she had tried to thank Ronald later the boy had given her the cold shoulder and dismissively said,

“I didn’t do it for you Ms Know-it-all, I just don’t like snakes.”

From that point on she had decided to stay away from both boys and began spending most of her time in the library, somewhere neither of the two bullies frequented.

Her parents continued to speak to the professor until the pair she was accompanying reached the front of the line. At some point in their conversation, they had been introduced and Hermione learned that the boy was another muggle-born starting school that year. She had greeted him and offered to help him if he needed anything during the school year. Eventually, the Grangers had their turn at the counter and were able to exchange some pounds for a bag of gold, silver, and bronze coins.

“Makes me feel like I am back in the middle ages,” her father muttered as he fiddled with one of the coins.

“Stop that dear,” Mrs Granger said, giving him a light slap on the arm as they made their way out of the bank building.

As they joined the flow of traffic outside the small family made sure to stick close together so that they wouldn’t be separated in the crowd. Hermione reached into her pocket and pulled out the folded list she had received only a few days earlier. 

“My robes are still fine but I need to refill some of my potion supplies. I will also need more parchment, quills and ink,”

“I still don’t understand why you can’t just bring some spiral notebooks and pens,” Her father grumbled.

“You remember what Professor McGonagall said, Dad,” Hermione responded, “I don’t want to stand out.”

“No one accomplishes great things by not standing out,” her father rebutted.

“My grades will stand out,” Hermione said, “I will be known as the smartest witch in my class, not as the weird muggle-born girl that happens to do well.”

“Fine,” her father relented, “but don’t forget that before you were a witch you were a Granger, and Grangers never settle, we go for the gold.”

“Yes daddy,” Hermione said with a smile.

Her mother rolled her eyes slightly at her husband but smiled fondly at the interaction between father and daughter. Together the family moved through the magical street and found the needed supplies for Hermione’s second year. The trip was mostly uneventful aside from run-ins with a few of the students she was familiar with at school. For example Hannah Abbot and Susan Bones, two Hufflepuff students from her year that she had friendly conversations with whenever their houses shared a period. Other than these moments, it was not dissimilar to any other shopping trip she had experienced. 

After finishing their time in the book store they were passing by another shop and a flash of white caught her eye. Looking over she became entranced by the sight of a beautiful snowy owl sitting in a cage in the window of a shop they were passing. Thinking about the experiences she had earlier in the summer she tugged on her father’s sleeve. 

“Dad, how many galleons do you have left?”

“Hm?” he grunted questioningly then looked into the bag, “About 18 with a few silver and bronze ones as well. Why do you ask?”

“Well, remember how you said that you wish it were easier to know when I send a letter? What if we got an owl that was easily recognizable so you would know for sure that it was from me.” As she spoke she motioned to the window and her parents looked and saw the white bird looking back at them.

“Well it certainly is a beauty,” her father said as he considered the animal. Then, after a moment, he said, “What’s the harm in asking about it?”

The three entered the store and approached the counter.

“Excuse me,” Mr Granger said kindly, “We were thinking about buying an owl to help us better keep in touch with our daughter while at Hogwarts. How much for the white one you have in the window?”

“Oh, caught your little girl’s eye did she?” the salesman said from behind the counter, “Yes sir that bird right there is a beauty, only one of its kind that we have in stock, highly intelligent and well trained. A bird like that will run you a pretty sickle, but seeing as it is for such a lovely young lass I would be willing to cut you a deal. 25 galleons and I’ll throw in a bag of treats.”

“25?” Hermione’s father said in outrage, “The highest price on your sign says 15.” As he spoke he gestured to the sign behind the man displaying prices.

“Indeed it might,” the salesman said, “but that is the price for a more ordinary bird. That white one there is the best we have in stock, I couldn’t sell it for a price as low as the rest.”

Mr Granger ground his teeth in frustration but stopped when his wife placed a hand on his arm.

“Allow me, dear,” she said as she stepped forward.

“Sir, if I may ask how long has that bird been in your window?” she said, letting a small amount of concern enter her voice.

The salesman’s eyes narrowed slightly in suspicion at the question, “Why are you asking?”

“Well I am worried for its health you see,” the woman continued, “don’t you see how lethargic it is, how dull the plumage has become. Snowy owls like that one are native to much colder climates that we have here in London, so it is no wonder that you may not know the best way to treat such an animal. And if you claim that is the best one you have in stock, why, I fear for the health of the rest of your birds.”

As Hermione’s mother spoke, her voice got subtly louder so that the other patrons in the shop could hear her. They all started whispering and worried glances at the animals around the interior. The shopkeeper started looking about nervously as his customers began drifting toward the door. Mrs Granger smirked as the look came over his face then lowered her voice as she continued to speak.

“Tell you what, why don’t we take that bird off your hands for 18 galleons, you are still making a good profit I am sure, and you won’t have to worry about such a delicate creature.”

The shopkeeper grit his teeth but in the end he relented,

“Fine, 18.”

He went and grabbed the cage, placing it in front of the family. Mr Granger handed over the money and as soon as it changed hands Mrs Granger looked into the cage and said loudly.

“Oh I must have been mistaken, this is the most beautiful creature I have ever seen. You must tell us how you take such good care of your birds.”

The tension in the shop dissipated and the shop owner shook his head ruefully,

“It’s been a while since anyone got me that good madam. It was a pleasure doing business.”

Spending the remainder of their wizard money on treats for the newest addition to their family, the Grangers exited the store with Hermione happily carrying the cage of the beautiful bird.

“That was amazing Mom,” The girl gushed.

“Of course,” Her mother said, “you don’t think you got your smarts from your father do you?”

Hermione giggled and her father lagged before saying,

“Those smarts are why I married you,”

Their shopping completed, the family exited the alley and made their way back home. Hermione spent the last weeks of the summer enjoying her time with her family and getting to know her new owl. Her first order of business was naming the owl. She poured through her books and finally ended up deciding to name her after a witch in  _ A History of Magic, _ St. Hedwig, apparently during the middle ages the witch had sacrificed herself to protect muggle-born children under her care from a dark lord who was trying to rise to power. Hermione had been inspired by the story and when she told it to the newly named Hedwig the owl had seemed to puff its chest in pride at the name. It was surprising how intelligent the animal was, for the first few days after getting it, the owl would not let Hermione’s mother come near it until Hermione suggested that she apologize for saying the things she did to lower the owl’s price. The woman told the owl she was sorry and that seemed to settle things so Hedwig allowed her to pet her plumage.

Finally the first of September rolled around and Hermione woke early to make sure everything was in order. Soon she was again in Kings Cross Station and hugging her parents goodbye before she made her way through the barrier and onto the platform. After looking around she heard someone call her name and turned to see Padma coming to greet her. The girls shared a hug and began swapping stories about summer. In the middle of Hermione telling her about one of the castles she visited Padma interrupted the girl and pointed behind her. When Hermione turned she saw Neville approaching them, a smile on his face.

“Hello,” he said in greeting.

“Hello Neville,” Hermione said back, “I missed you.”

“Yeah,” Padma added, “two letters for the whole summer break was not enough.”

“I know,” the boy said shyly, “I am sorry about that, but the summer really was crazy for Gran, she was almost constantly on a floo call or sending out letters. I spent most of my time over the summer in our greenhouses. It was quite peaceful, though I was sad I couldn’t talk to you both more.”

“Well,” Hermione said, “hopefully that won’t ever be a problem again because I got something over the break. Allow me to introduce you both to Hedwig.”

With a flourish, the girl pulled back the cover exposing the white bird, who hooted quietly in protest at being woken from her nap. Hermione’s two friends peered into the cage and both offered appreciative noises at the sight of the beautiful owl.

“Wow,” Padma said, “she is very impressive.”

“You are practically Athena,” Neville added, “you are incredibly smart and now you have a pet owl too.”

Hermione beamed at the response. She was so happy to be reunited with her two friends again. They eventually made their way onto the train and found an empty car. When they had settled down Neville spoke.

“I actually wanted to show you both something I got over the break as well.”

Reaching into his robes he pulled out a thirteen-inch wand with a twisted grip at the base. Hermione’s breath caught at the sight of the unfamiliar length of wood. 

“Neville, you…” Hermione was lost for words.

“I talked to my grandmother about it and she agreed to take me to Ollivanders,” He reached in again and this time pulled out the familiar wand that he had used throughout their first year. “I was sad that I wasn’t able to use my father’s wand to its fullest potential, but I never really knew what I was missing. Now that I have an actual connection to a wand I feel a sense of completeness that I never had before. I will still keep my dad’s wand to remember him by, but now I feel like I can live up to his reputation.” Smiling, he met Hermione’s eyes, “Thank you for helping me Hermione, I don’t know if I ever would have been willing to make the change without your help.”

Hermione’s eyes stung but held in her tears and grabbed the boy in a fierce hug.

“You’re very welcome,” She said to him.

“Aww, that’s so sweet,” Padma said before a hand from Hermione reached out and pulled her into the hug as well.

“I really missed you guys,” Hermione said once more to her friends.

* * *

The emotional start of the year had filled Hermione with excitement at the thought of going back to Hogwarts, but once again she had arrived at the end of the year and some part of her that yearned for adventure still felt unfulfilled. The most exciting thing that had happened all year had taken place just a few weeks ago when a Ravenclaw sixth-year had deduced that Professor Lockhart was lying about the escapades that they had been required to read that year. The story was that the Ravenclaw student suspected that the teacher was using the memory charm to cover his tracks so they had left a note for themselves in their room in case it happened to them. While the rumours varied, the fact of the matter was that a team of aurors had shown up in the middle of dinner and hauled Professor Lockhart away. Despite the students’ hopes, the finals schedule remained unchanged, even with the loss of another defence against the dark arts professor. So here Hermione was, walking into the greenhouse for her herbology exam, and at her side walking calmly into the greenhouse was her friend Neville. 

The connection with his new wand that he had talked about on the train was readily apparent in his increased casting ability in charms and transfiguration. Though he still struggled in potions, thanks to the pressure he was always under due to Professor Snape’s demeanour. Hermione did her best to encourage him, but even with all of his improvements he still had shaken with nervousness as they walked into every final exam so far. However, herbology was to Neville as water was to a fish. He thrived in the greenhouse, able to identify nearly every plant inside at a glance. His ability to recall information about flora was spectacular, beating out both Hermione and Padma when they studied together. As the thick smell of vegetation washed over them, Neville seemed to stand a little taller and a smile found its way onto his face. The happy moment of seeing her friend enjoy himself was ruined however by a voice behind them.

“Ugh, these finals are killing me, and this one doesn’t even require any spell casting. How does herbology count as magic anyway?” Ronald Weasley said loud enough for her and Neville to hear.

This year, just like the last, Hermione had avoided the boy by spending as much of her time as she could in the library with her friends. Unfortunately, she was still forced to be in his general vicinity during classes. She could hardly wait for next year because then she would be able to take elective courses letting her enjoy some of her class time without having to deal with the boy’s boorishness.

“The only one who actually likes this class is Longbottom,” He continued, “Which makes sense because without this class he’d be failing everything.” He laughed at his own joke and his two friends Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnegan chuckled along with him. 

The trio weren’t the worst bullies in the school, after all, they never went out of their way to be cruel but they would often make crude or disparaging remarks about their classmates. Hermione couldn’t hold in her annoyance anymore so she turned around to face the boys that had chosen to sit in the seats directly behind her and Neville, she would have to make sure that she and her friend took extra care to cover their answers just in case. Catching his eyes, which was easy because he had apparently been watching them for their reaction, she made her feelings known.

“Ronald Weasley, I know for a fact that you were tied with Neville in your scores last year and that this year he has made marked improvements in all of his subjects while you have chosen to wallow in mediocrity. Maybe you should work to improve yourself instead of just trying to tear everyone else down to your level.” 

The boy’s friends sniggered at her comeback and Ron’s mouth shut. His ears started to turn red with embarrassment and Hermione felt slightly better for speaking out. Until Neville placed a hand on her arm.

“Hermione, he is only saying those things to try and get your attention. You responding in that way is just giving him what he wants.”

Hermione looked at her friend puzzled by what he said.

“What do you mean?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Neville said calmly, “Just know that if you want him to stop just ignore him. It usually works with bullies who only use their words.”

“Watch what you say, Longbottom,” Ron said angrily.

He looked like he was about to continue but, any further retaliation was halted when Professor Sprout entered the room. All students knew that acting out during the final exam was a good way to put your entire semester grade into jeopardy, so nothing else was said until the test had been finished.

When the test was complete and all the papers had been collected the students were excused. This had been the last final of the day with only transfiguration, charms, and astronomy left for the second-years to complete tomorrow. Hermione and Neville planned to meet up with Padma and do some last-minute studying then hopefully make some plans for the approaching summer break. As Hermione and her friend exited the greenhouse however they were stopped by Ron.

“You insulted me in class Longbottom, I demand satisfaction.” The redheaded boy said.

Neville’s head tilted in confusion, Hermione was surprised that he was standing his ground but he still must be riding high from being in the greenhouse.

“What do you mean Ron?” Neville asked back. 

“You called me a bully and nearly revealed things that are no business of yours,” Ron said back, his eyes flashing briefly over to Hermione.

“What do I have to do with it?” Hermione thought.

“My family may not be rich like yours but I am still a pureblood and you insulted my honour.”

“Are you saying what I think you are?” Nevill asked in disbelief.

“Yes,” Ron said back.

“You have no right,” Neville said calmly, “According to the  _ Code Duellum Magica _ Only the initially offended party has the right to demand satisfaction and you were the one to insult me first with your comments about my performance in classes. If you were to try and attack me you would be unjustified. In addition, neither of us is a legal adult so those statutes aren’t available to us. You are speaking about things you don’t fully understand.”

Ron flushed in embarrassment and anger at the other boy’s words. Neville watched him and his lips dropped into a frown. 

“Ron,” Neville said seriously, “If you want to get what you’re reaching for you will need to act more mature. The way you are now you will only push people away.”

Neville then turned to Hermione and motioned with his head and the two friends continued walking toward the library, the redheaded boy staying in his spot.

“You know,” Hermione said, “I have studied a little Latin so I have an idea what the  _ Code Duellum Magica _ must be. I can’t believe Weasley would try to challenge you to a duel.”

“He’s not a bad guy,” Neville said quietly, his soft-spoken tendencies returning as they got farther from the greenhouse, “He is the youngest son in a big family, all of his brothers have made a mark in their time at Hogwarts, so he is just trying to find his place.”

Hermione could somewhat see Neville’s point but couldn’t fully accept it.

“You may have a point but that doesn’t excuse the way he treats others. If he truly wished to make a mark then he should be kind. Even though his brothers all have their quirks, be they pranksters or sticklers for the rules, they are all kind to others.”

“You’re right,” Neville agreed, “But it’s only the second year there is time for him to grow up.”

Hermione shrugged noncommittally as they entered the library. Looking around they spotted Padma as she waved them over to a table she had claimed. Hermione felt excitement bubble up in her stomach, the three of them had already talked about meeting up during the break and apparently with magic it would be easy for her to come too. Today the three friends were going to finalize their plans. Hermione could hardly wait for the coming summer. 


	6. Chapter 6

#  Chapter 6

The first summer Harry spent on campus had been relaxing and peaceful, and when his friends had returned they had all come together and picked up right where they left off. They quickly started up a new campaign to fill their evenings and their bonds of friendship grew stronger. As the end of the year approached, ideas started being passed around of meeting up during the break. They had been hesitant, though, because it was unclear if Harry would be allowed to go. After a few days of tiptoeing around the subject, Harry decided that nothing would be done unless he spoke to the headmaster. So, one day after classes he visited the Jacobs’ office. He entered the reception area and approached Mrs Banks who was, as always, at her desk in front of the office’s door. 

While some of the students found Mrs Banks intimidating, Harry had built a relationship with her over the summer as he would speak to her whenever he came for his weekly meetings with Headmaster Jacobs. She was a very kind woman, if intense about her work. She would always ask how Harry was doing and would pay attention when he spoke to her, which was evidenced by the fact that whenever she met him next, she would ask follow-up questions about what he mentioned the day before. Out of curiosity Harry had begun to ask her questions about her life and learned that she had been married, but that her husband had sadly passed on during his time in the military. He had served with Jacobs and they had been close friends so she had become acquainted with the headmaster as well. When Jacobs took charge of the school he had asked Mrs Banks to help him due to her experience as a secretary in both private business and the military. She accepted, due to the trust she had in the man, and came here to work at Stonewall. She had no children of her own so she lived in quarters on campus along with some of the staff. She had told Harry that over the years she had come to see Stonewall as her home and the faculty and children as family. Which made Harry feel closer to her due to his own feelings about the school.

Due to the relationship they had started to build over the summer, Harry approached her desk without fear and requested a meeting with the headmaster. Mrs Banks had looked through her agenda for his schedule and then paged into the man’s office,

“Headmaster Jacobs, Harry Potter wishes to meet with you,” she said in a crisp professional tone.

The headmaster opened the door to welcome Harry into the office a short time later. Harry thanked the secretary and entered, taking a seat across from the desk, as he had become accustomed to doing throughout the summer.

“How can I help Mr Potter?” Jacobs asked as he sat as well.

Harry took a moment to compose himself. He had no fear of Mrs Banks, but Arthur Jacobs was a different story, Harry had carefully considered what he would say during this conversation hoping that he would be able to convince the man.

“Sir, I wanted to speak about this summer,” Harry began, “I am grateful for all you have done to help with my living situation, being able to be away from my relatives has helped me so much. During this coming break, however, I have been speaking with my friends and we wanted to know if it would be possible for me to spend some of the time with them, sir.” When he finished speaking Harry sat on the edge of his seat, waiting for the headmaster’s response.

Harry squirmed slightly as Jacobs looked at him with his calm yet firm gaze. Eventually, he opened his mouth to respond,

“Harry, as much as I would like to approve of this request I cannot. When I spoke to your guardians and they approved your staying here over the summer they signed a document giving us the responsibility of your care, but we do not have the authority to give that responsibility to another party without your aunt and uncle’s consent,” the headmaster explained.

Harry considered his reasoning, then asked, “Could you tell them that this is a school-sponsored outing to get their approval?” 

Jacobs’s eyes narrowed and he spoke in a warning tone, “Careful Harry, I bent the truth when I spoke to your relatives at the end of last year because it was necessary to do for your protection, but I never lied. Honesty is still one of the core values of Stonewall and we do not compromise our values because it would be convenient for us.” 

Harry immediately backed down and dipped his head in shame, “I am sorry, sir, I shouldn’t have suggested it.”

The headmaster’s gaze softened and he spoke, “It is alright Harry, you are young and you are here to learn. It is alright to make mistakes as long as you learn from them.”

Harry’s gaze lifted again to look at his role model, who nodded encouragingly to the boy.

“Listen, Harry,” the headmaster spoke, “you have made great strides in your education and character. If the chance to be with your friends over the summer means so much to you, then you should tell your relatives and get them to approve it. I will do everything in my power to keep my word to protect your enrollment here at Stonewall, so you go and fight for what you want in life.”

Harry sat up straighter, emboldened by the man’s words. “Thank you, sir, I will.”

The next day he spent most of his free time planning out his conversation. He had told his friends about what he was going to do and they had all reacted in their own way.

Travis patted Harry on the shoulder in solidarity and said solemnly, “You can do it, Harry. Just be straight with them and don’t take no for an answer.”

Liam had been nervous but offered encouragement. “You’re brave for doing this Harry, and whatever happens we’ll be there for you.”

Finally, Nish was expectedly flippant about it, “Don’t worry Harry, if they say no we can just kidnap you like we planned last summer.”

Harry thanked his three friends for their support, and after classes had ended, gone to the phone room to call his parents. The phone room was constructed with a few cubicles, each with a phone for the students to use in contacting family. The use of the phones was restricted so that you needed permission from a faculty member to make a call. Harry had been given permission from the headmaster for this, so as he entered the room he approached the desk of the staff on duty and showed his note. The teacher accepted the note and after checking a list directed Harry to an open booth. As Harry entered the cubicle he saw that they contained a plastic chair and a counter that was attached to the walls, on the counter was a simple black phone. Sitting down, Harry took a moment to calm his nerves. He wished that his dog, Huan, was here, petting the dog was always calming for Harry. For a moment Harry distracted himself as he remembered how the dog got its name.

Harry hadn’t bothered giving the animal a name over the summer. For him, it was always just the stray dog that he would occasionally visit. When the second year had started, however, Harry had brought his friends to meet the animal and they had all been ecstatic to meet the creature. Though he had never claimed ownership they all said that the dog was clearly Harry’s and asked what its name was. 

“I don’t know,” Harry said, “it didn’t have any kind of collar, I just figured it was a stray and I didn’t name it because I figured it would move on eventually.” 

“Did you feed it?” Liam asked.

“Yeah,” Harry said, “when I first found it, it looked really hungry, then I started always grabbing some extra food at meals to bring here. I didn’t want it to starve.”

“Well there is the problem, I think I read somewhere that if you feed a dog regularly you will train it to stay with you, expecting food,” Liam explained. “For all intents and purposes, Harry, this is your dog. So, you have to name it.”

What followed was a spirited discussion about what the dog should be named. First, of course, they had to know whether it was a boy or girl, but that became apparent when they gave him a belly rub. With the gender issue resolved they began thinking up possible names. Harry had never named anything before so he just blurted out the first name that came to his head,

“Snuffles perhaps?”

“Snuffles?” Nish said in shock, “What a terrible name. If you wanted to give him a name that people will laugh at, I once heard this American country song called ‘A Boy Named Sue.’ It could even be an inside joke because most people would just think he is a girl dog until they see him lift his leg.”

“No,” Travis interjected, “you can’t be that cruel to an animal. Give him a good British name. What about Gromit, after that clay dog from the telly.” 

“I think it should be something grander,” Liam added, “In Tolkein’s  _ Silmarillion _ he writes about a great dog of legend named Huan. He was famous for his great deeds in both hunting and battle.”

The dog had then stood and sat down next to Liam giving the boy a quick lick. 

“Well, the dog has obviously made his choice,” Nish said in a serious voice making the group of friends chuckle. 

Harry pulled himself out of his memory and back to the present with a shake of his head. He had come here for a reason and he wouldn’t put it off any longer. Reaching out, Harry picked up the receiver and began dialling the number for his aunt and uncle’s home phone. He sat silently as the phone rang, a part of him hoping that it wouldn’t be answered until suddenly there was a click and he heard the voice of his aunt.

“Hello?” Petunia said in a polite tone.

Harry froze slightly at the word. He had heard his aunt speak that way before but it had never been directed at him before. Shaking off his stupor Harry responded.

“Hello, Aunt Petunia,”

The line was silent for a moment, as though neither party knew how to continue the conversation, then his aunt’s voice came back on the line though now it was in the disdainful hiss he was familiar with.

“What do you want, boy?”

Harry took a deep breath to calm the emotions that her tone brought out of him. The fear and self-loathing they had ingrained in him by their treatment. Once he felt he had more control of himself, he spoke in a calm respectful tone. As much as it pained him to speak to his relative this way, he knew that he was trying to ask something of her, so acting confrontational would only put his desires out of reach.

“Aunt Petunia, I am calling about the upcoming summer break,” Harry began only to be interrupted by his aunt.

“You are staying at that school, we already signed the papers for you to continue the summer program that you were in last year. Judging by the way you acted when you came home for the two weeks before the start of this year it seemed to have done you some good.”

As the headmaster had mentioned he was only able to keep Harry on the campus of Stonewall for the majority of the summer, the last two weeks he had to return to the Dursleys’ house. His time there had been rough but he knew it would be short, so Harry had spent the entire time quietly and stoically going along with the Dursleys counting the days to when he would be able to return to his true home, Stonewall. It had honestly not been too hard, he still woke well before the rest of the Dursley family so he was able to continue his running that he had started with Mr Atkins. The rest of his days were spent completing the lists of chores he was given, which he would take his time with so that they were all perfectly completed to prevent his relatives from finding any fault with his work, and any extra time was spent at the Little Whinging public library, which had the dual purpose of being a haven from Dudley and his gang who avoided it like the plague and letting him continue reading the books on the list Liam had left him.

“I understand,” Harry responded, “I was hoping though, that you might give me permission to leave the campus for a time to spend part of the summer break with the friends I have made here.”

“Absolutely not,” Petunia responded immediately, making Harry’s stomach drop, “Why would I ever let you spend time away from the supervision of the staff at Stonewall to spend time with whatever hooligan friends you made there? You would no doubt be out and about vandalizing some corner of a town bringing embarrassment to us.” 

Harry couldn’t help the spike of anger that flared at hearing his friends be insulted. Before he could reign himself in he spoke, 

“No, they are nothing like that.” He calmed himself once more and continued, 

“My friends are all well behaved, none of them is in the Summer Rehabilitation Program like I am,” Harry explained hoping that his loss of control would be ignored. He knew the name of the program from some of the paperwork he had been shown when the headmaster explained the program, he hoped that the terminology would help to improve his aunt's view of his friends.

“They may not need the program but you clearly do,” his aunt responded. Harry’s heart sank, he had ruined his chance by being unable to control his temper. Once more anger started to build, but now it was directed at himself. “You will be spending the summer at that school where hopefully they can help you get rid of that attitude. We luckily won’t have to see you again until the end of August.” 

When she said that however, an idea appeared in Harry’s head. A final desperate hope filled him as he made one more attempt.

“What about then?” he asked, doing his best to sound respectful again.

“What?” his aunt snapped.

“What about during those two weeks, when I have to leave campus, could I spend some of that time with my friends. Then you wouldn’t have to deal with me, and you could even meet them and judge for yourself.” Harry explained.

His aunt was silent for a moment then seemed to speak to herself, “It has been nice not having you burdening us.” She was quiet for a bit more, then asked, “and you wouldn’t be expecting us to pay for anything would you?”

“No,” Harry said quickly, “We don’t want to do anything costly, so I am sure my friends’ families would not need any money from you.”

More silence followed until finally, Petunia said, “I will consider it with Vernon.”

Harry was filled with joy, he couldn’t hold in a relieved, “Thank you, Aunt Petunia,”

“Yes, yes,” Petunia said, “I will leave a message for you with our final decision.”

With that, the call ended and Harry excitedly exited the room to find his friends. A few minutes later they were all sitting on the lawn next to the building that Huan had settled behind. As they spoke the dog lounged next to Harry while the boy absently scratched his side.

“So it worked,” Liam said happily.

“Yep, we will be able to get together near the end of the summer break,” Harry said. “At least I hope so, my aunt said that she would talk to my uncle and then call the schools with their decision.”

“Well, there is no use waiting for that decision. It is out of our hands so let’s pretend we already know and plan what we want to do,” Nish said.

So the boys began to talk excitedly about the places they wanted to visit and the things they planned to do. The next day Harry was called to the office and given a message from Aunt Petunia, it read,

“Have your friend’s parents come and pick you up, we will see then.”

Now it was nearing the end of summer and Harry was boarding the train that would take him back to Little Whinging. He would be staying one night with his relatives then tomorrow Nish would be coming with his parents to pick him up for the week he and his friends had planned together. They would all be staying at Nish’s house because it was the most central, his house was in London itself and Liam, Travis, and Harry all lived in towns surrounding the city, and he would have enough space for all of them. Nish had three older siblings and when they had all lived at home they had shared the two bedrooms between them, the three boys in one and their sister having the other room to herself. Now, however, Nish’s two older brothers had moved away, one was in university and the other had an apprenticeship, so Nish had the room to himself. Harry was a bit nervous to meet Nish’s parents, but from the stories Nish shared of them, they seemed to be pleasant people. 

Before any of their plans could take place though, Nish’s parents would need to pass the scrutiny of the Dursleys. And as the train came to a stop Harry couldn’t help but begin to feel nervous at the thought of his relatives meeting Nish’s family. Uncle Vernon was not waiting on the platform, but Harry hadn’t been expecting him to be there anyway. Harry knew that the big man would be waiting for him outside the station in his car just as he had been the year before. Stepping off the train Harry shifted his duffle bag onto his shoulder so that it was more secure. The weight of the bag didn’t trouble him. He regularly exercised with Mr Atkins throughout his time at Stonewall, just as he had the previous summer, and the man had added some basic strength exercises to their routine, though they hadn’t used any kinds of weights due to Mr Atkins saying that his body needed to develop more before he would get any real benefit from it. Despite his increased mass, however, he still appeared scrawny due to the oversized clothing that he received second hand from Dudley.

As Harry stepped outside he spotted the Dursleys silver station wagon and began to walk toward it. His uncle must have spotted him as well because, as he approached the car, he heard the locks click open allowing him to open the hatchback and place his bags inside before he walked to the rear passenger-side door to enter himself. As soon as the door was shut, his uncle turned on the car and began to pull out of the car park. 

“Glad to see you didn’t dawdle around in the station,” Vernon said gruffly.

“Your welcome, Uncle Vernon,” Harry said back with a calm respectful tone which he had mentally practised all through the summer in the hopes it would help his chances of being allowed to be with his friends.

After a few more minutes of driving, Vernon spoke once more. Which surprised Harry because, for the most part, his uncle seemed to despise talking to him.

“So if I understand correctly, one of your delinquent friends will be coming to pick you up tomorrow,” Vernon said.

Harry’s jaw clenched as he held back the frustration he felt at the disrespectful way his uncle referred to his friends. He struggled for a moment but then he remembered the call with Petunia when he had first proposed the idea and how an outburst at that time had nearly ruined his and his friends’ plans. Taking a deep breath to calm himself, Harry spoke, once more using the respectful tone he had practised. 

“Yes, they plan to arrive at 11:00, though it will depend on the traffic. ” Harry confirmed, “And, thank you again for letting me spend time with them.” 

“Humph,” Vernon grunted, “don’t get ahead of yourself, I half expect a tattooed hooligan to show up, planning to whisk you away on a motorcycle. If your friends or their families seem like the wrong sort there is no way we are going to risk being associated with them.”

For a moment Harry didn’t respond but as he sat he noticed his uncle glancing into the rearview mirror as though he expected an answer,

“Yes uncle,” Harry said, not letting any of his emotions into his voice. 

When they arrived at 4 Privet Drive, Harry got out and collected his bags. Vernon didn’t wait for him and walked toward the house though he didn’t enter and held the door open for Harry just in case people might be watching. Once Harry was inside, Vernon reached toward the narrow table that the Dursleys kept in their entry hall and grabbed a paper off of it.

“One other thing,” Vernon said, holding the paper out to Harry, “If you wish to leave tomorrow, you have to complete these chores. This is still your home so you need to help maintain it.”

In his mind, Harry scoffed at the idea of Privet Drive being his home. He had never felt welcome here and now that he had lived at Stonewall for nearly two years, and felt what it was like to be safe and comfortable, he would never think of this place as home again. If his aunt and uncle wished to force him to do chores so that he could be with his friends he would play along. Accepting the list he looked it over. It contained most of his regular chores, the majority of which were about maintaining the garden. The additions were things like sharpening the tools and organizing the shed, probably so it would be easier for the Dursleys to do upkeep until he came back. Looking outside I saw that he still had a reasonable amount of daylight left, so not wanting to waste a second he gave a quick, “Yes, uncle,” and got to work.

He dropped his duffle off in the cupboard that he slept in. As he grew the little room seemed to get more and more cramped but he could deal with the discomfort for the short time that he spent there. He didn’t bother changing out of his current clothes, nothing he owned was in good condition so he didn’t mind wearing it while he worked outside. Harry started by weeding the flowerbeds in front of the house and working his way around the building. Once he was finished with that he pulled out the lawnmower and cut the grass, and then he trimmed the edge of the lawn with a strimmer. By the time this was done he was running out of light so he spent the rest of the evening working on organizing the garden shed. Soon the sky had gone dark, and Harry went inside so that he could sleep and finish the list of chores tomorrow morning. When he walked inside Harry was surprised to find a plate with a sandwich that consisted of a single slice of meat and cheese between two slices of bread next to a glass of water. He shrugged and ate the measly dinner before washing the plate and glass and heading to the cupboard under the stairs. He got dressed in his pyjamas but left the clothes he had used while working folded at the foot of his bed so that he could use them again. Looking at his bed he saw that it looked untouched since he had made it last fall, so Harry grabbed the thin blanket and took it outside before shaking it out so that the dust that had accumulated on it flew off to be carried away by the breeze. This done he went back inside and lied down to fall asleep.

The next morning he woke early like usual, though instead of doing his exercise routine he got right to work finishing the chores he had been assigned. He needed to be done by 11:00, when Nish’s parents would arrive, which meant he had five hours to sharpen the gardening tools, clean the patio, and scrub the outsides of the windows. He threw himself into the work, vigorously completing each task. When he was finally finished, Harry wiped the sweat from his brow and walked inside at 10:30 to find his aunt cleaning up after breakfast and his uncle still sitting at the table reading the Sunday paper. 

“I’ve finished my chores,” Harry said when he entered the kitchen, being very careful not to track any mud or dirt into the house.

“Hmph,” his uncle grunted in acknowledgement.

“May I go get ready to leave?’ Harry asked, putting on his practised respectful tone.

“Yes, yes,” Vernon said absently.

Harry made his way to the cupboard under the stairs and grabbed a change of clothing, then made his way to the nearest washroom to clean up. When he was done with his grooming Harry went downstairs and stashed his dirty clothes in the corner of the cupboard where he would be able to clean them when he returned in a week. He then packed his toiletries into his duffle and zipped it back up. He hadn’t needed to pack anything else because he hadn’t unpacked after getting back from Stonewall. Hauling his duffle up onto his shoulder, he closed the door to the cupboard and went to the entry hall to wait. Harry placed his bag on the floor and sat on the stairs, straining his ears to catch the sound of an approaching car.

Finally, at five past eleven, Harry heard a car in front of the house and looked out the nearest window. Stopped at the curb was a station wagon a few years older than the Dursley’s own. It was a dark blue with wood panelling and, as Harry watched, the passenger door opened and Nish climbed out causing a smile to sprout on his face. Walking quickly to the kitchen Harry said to his aunt and uncle,

“They’re here,”

His uncle looked up from his paper to check the clock and scoffed, “Can’t even be bothered to show up on time.”

Harry’s smile vanished and he clenched his jaw once more in frustration.

“Now Vernon,” Petunia said chidingly, “we need to at least meet them.”

“Very well,” the rotund man sighed.

At that moment the doorbell rang. Vernon heaved himself out of his chair and waddled past Harry to answer the door. When he opened it he was confronted by a smiling moustachioed Indian man. Harry, who had followed behind his uncle, could immediately see similarities between the man and his first friend. Looking down Harry saw Nish himself standing behind his father and the two boys shared a wave.

Vernon scrutinized the man in front of him sceptically, like he was trying to find some fault in him. Finally, he spoke,

“Hm, an immigrant, I hope you are here legally.”

Harry’s face was overcome with shock at the rudeness of his uncle, the shock quickly vanished replaced by a wave of burning anger. How dare his uncle look down on someone else when he was so filled with flaws himself. Harry’s anger was doused however when he heard the other man’s response.

“Actually,” Nish’s father said in slightly accented English, “I was born and raised in London, my parents immigrated when they were young and had me here, which I couldn’t be more grateful for.” The smile never left the man’s face as he held out a hand for Vernon to shake, “Aarush Kumar,” the man introduced himself, “and you must be Harry’s uncle.”

Vernon was caught flat-footed by the response he received from the other man. Taking the hand warily, he shook it then asked another question.

“So you are from London you say, which part?”

“My family and I live just south of Hampstead in Kentish town,” Aarush said amiably, “we own a restaurant there so if you are ever in the area please come give it a try, we have some of the best curries in the city.”

“I won’t fall for that,” Vernon said, “I’m in sales myself, so I know anyone who says they have the best must be lying.”

“Ah, but then you also know that you can’t exaggerate too much, so when I make a claim like that my curry must be in the top ten at least.”

Vernon chuckled at the man’s comeback. After a slight pause, Aarush continued.

“You are in sales though, you must tell me what business.”

“Grunnings, we have the finest industrial drill bits.”

When Vernon finished talking Aarush raised an eyebrow, “Really, the finest eh?”

After a moment, Vernon caught on and began laughing earnestly.

“Haha, you caught me there,” Vernon said, his stomach jiggling, “you must come in and meet my wife,” Vernon pulled the other man into the house and they both made their way to the kitchen.

Harry was dumbfounded at what had just happened. As he stared after the two men he heard Nish’s voice say,

“I told you my dad knows how to handle a racist,”

Harry turned to Nish and smiled. The two boys shared a quick hug with a few quick pats on the back then pulled apart. 

“Now I see why you weren’t worried at all once my relatives said they would meet your parents,” Harry said.

“Yep, my dad can become anybody’s friend in a couple of seconds. Now let’s get your stuff in the car.”

Following his friend’s suggestion, Harry carried his duffle to the car where Nish opened the back so he could throw it in. When the back opened, however, Harry leapt back in fright when Travis and Liam jumped out at him with a shout.

“What?” Harry said in shock as the three boys laughed.

Liam was the first to calm down enough to speak so he explained,

“We got to Nish’s place yesterday so we all decided to come get you together.”

“Yeah,” Travis said now that his laughter had settled down as well, “and Nish figured that if we weren’t able to get you peacefully we could sneak you out the back.”

“Exactly,” Liam said, “Nothing was going to stop this gathering of the Heroes of Stonewall Keep.”

The boys all started laughing at the name. During this year’s campaign in D&D, they had named their party the Heroes of Stonewall Keep and Liam liked it so much that he started calling their friend group that in real life. The other three boys accepted it but they rarely used the name themselves, however, Liam was determined to make it stick so he would take every opportunity to call the name out. The boys chatted for a few minutes more before Nish pointed out that his dad had reappeared in the doorway. Liam and Travis got back into the car and Nish and Harry walked back to the two men who were still chatting.

“Well, as much as I would like to stay for tea the traffic will only get worse the later we leave,” Aarush said.

“I understand completely,” Vernon said, “hopefully when you drop Harry back off we will have some more time to chat.”

“That sounds lovely,” Nish’s father replied.

“Let me have some final words with the boy and I will let you be on your way,” Vernon said.

Nish and his father left for the car and Vernon placed a firm hand on Harry’s shoulder.

“Now listen here boy,” Vernon said, the joviality gone from his voice, “You behave while you are with that nice family. Don’t do anything to embarrass us, understand.”

“Yes, uncle,” Harry responded flatly.

“Good,” Vernon said then with that he pushed Harry toward the car.

As Harry stepped out the door and made his way to the car he couldn’t help but feel lighter with each step. More and more he was breaking free of the shackle of 4 Privet Drive. Now he would get to spend the summer with his friends, he felt free. When he was halfway to the car he broke into a run for the remaining distance and his friends threw the door open as he jumped in. They laughed with joy as they began driving away, happily talking about what plans they had for the coming days.


	7. Chapter 7

#  Chapter 7

The drive from Surrey to London was a novel experience for Harry. Usually, any time he spent in a car was quite perilous. All it took was one wrong word to get his uncle upset then he spent the remainder of the time listening to all the threats spewed at him from the front seat. Worst of all was the fact that he was sitting next to Dudley who would spend the whole time pinching and prodding Harry so that he would cry out and get Vernon’s attention. This time he was in a car filled with friends who were all jabbering away with excitement about their plans and he couldn’t help but join in. 

“So what have you guys seen in London before?” Nish asked,

“I went to Buckingham Palace once on a field trip in primary school.” Travis said, “Never really had a reason to go back until now though.”

“I have been to London a couple of times,” Liam provided, “I saw some of the famous sites like the palace and big ben, and I even got to see the London Library.” He said the last one with excitement that prompted an eye roll from Nish

“Of course you would be excited about that.” Nish said exasperatedly before turning to Harry, “And you Harry?”

“The last time I went was right before first-year. My cousin wanted to visit the zoo and my aunt and uncle couldn’t find a sitter so they ended up taking me with them. The whole thing got cut short when my uncle wouldn’t stop banging on the glass in the reptile building and we were asked to leave by an attendant.” Harry said, prompting his friends to chuckle as they pictured the fat man they had just seen making a fool of himself.

“Well, we have a week,” Nish said, “So I am thinking we can go to the pool, visit an arcade, maybe see a movie.”

“And who will be paying for all of that?” Nish’s father interrupted from the driver seat, making Nish freeze.

“Well,” Nish said hesitantly, “I suppose I assumed that…” he trailed off for a moment.

The moment then morphed into an awkward silence until finally, Liam spoke nervously.

“Um, I brought some money with me. It isn’t a lot but I should be able to cover myself.”

Suddenly Aarush chuckled lightheartedly,

“I’m sorry boys, I couldn’t resist. As soon as Nish told us about your plans we started saving up so you four could enjoy yourselves. I just ask that you help us with some chores around the restaurant so that we can spare Nish.” The man spoke in a friendly tone dispelling the awkward air that had developed.

“Dad, you can be such a jerk sometimes,” Nish said, embarrassed by his father’s behaviour.

This of course just made the man laugh heartily, which in turn got Harry, Travis and Liam chuckling as well. Eventually, after a little over an hour on the road, the car pulled into a small parking lot behind a building in the city and the boys all climbed out, Travis volunteering to help Harry carry his things. Harry thanked the other boy then looked at their destination. It was a two-story brick building situated on the corner of an intersection. The front had a large window with the words Tandoori Kitchen printed on it red around a graphic of a steaming bowl of curry. The back was bare with a few windows on the top floor and a door. When they entered the back door it led into a landing with a staircase up to the second floor and another door opposite that, if the smells and sounds were anything to go by, opened into a kitchen. Nish was the first inside and he immediately went upstairs calling as he went,

“Mom, we’re home.”

Harry was more hesitant at entering someone else’s home. He had never been to a friend’s house before so he wasn’t familiar with the proper protocol. Aarush’s voice coming from behind broke him out of his unease.

“Please go inside Harry. While you are here this is your home too.”

The man’s welcoming tone helped to ease Harry’s mind and he made his way up following behind his friends. When he made it to the top of the stairs he saw Nish, Travis, and Liam being greeted by a middle-aged Indian woman wearing a sari, she was thin without being bony like his Aunt Petunia and had a mature elegance to her features. Her black hair was in a simple braid at the back of her head and she gave off a welcoming aura. When Harry reached the top of the stairs her eyes met him and a warm smile overcame her face and she spoke with a melodious alto voice that had a hint of an accent.

“Ah, this must be Harry. I hope that the boys didn’t have to kidnap you like they were whispering about at breakfast.”

Nish’s eyes widened in surprise and Travis and Liam suddenly found the floor very interesting. Harry chuckled at their reactions, but felt his nervousness resurface as he spoke.

“No ma’am, your husband made a very good impression on my uncle so he let me go without any issues.” 

The comment made the woman smile, “That sounds like Aarush, he has always had a way with people.”

Suddenly footsteps were heard on the stairs behind Harry followed by the voice of Nish’s father.

“I heard my name and I have appeared,” the man said as he reached the top of the stairs. Then, leaning against the bannister he said to his wife, “Sorry to interrupt Viti, but we have a very big lunch rush coming in so could you and Nish help Milana with waiting tables.”

“But dad,” Nish complained, “my friends just got here.”

“I know, and I am sorry. You will be free from helping in the restaurant during the day all week. I just need you today.” Aarush responded calmly yet firmly.

“Fine,” Nish said, turning to his friends, “You guys can stay up here or…”

“Nonsense,” Nish’s mother, Viti, said, “have them come down and we will get them some lunch. I bet they are hungry.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Travis said enthusiastically, making the woman chuckle.

After quickly placing Harry’s bag in Nish’s room, they all made their way down to the restaurant below. As they passed through the kitchen, Harry’s nose was assaulted by the delicious scents of curry simmering in pots and fresh naan baking in an oven, then they were quickly ushered into a medium-sized dining area. Harry, Travis, and Liam were seated in a corner booth near the service window and they watched curiously as the restaurant workers operated. They had seen two men in white coats and aprons working in the kitchen and Harry guessed that Aarush was also back there helping out. In the front of the building, going between tables, was a young Indian woman probably two or three years older than Harry and his friends wearing jeans, a t-shirt, and a short apron. She carried a pad and pencil and was taking orders from the patrons. Harry assumed that this was the sister that Nish had mentioned when talking about his family, and judging from the conversation that had taken place just before they moved down here her name was Milana. A moment later Nish and Viti walked in each wearing a similar Apron and carrying a pad and pencil. In no time at all the dining area was packed with customers. Most of them appeared to be ordering food to go because their food was delivered to them in paper bags that they took and left with right away. A few customers, however, chose to dine in and they were served plain white bowls of steaming curry. At one point during the lunch rush, Viti took the time to drop by the booth Harry and his friends were occupying.

“Thanks for waiting,” she said kindly, “Do you have anything, in particular, you would like?” 

The menu for the restaurant was posted on the wall for all the patrons to see so Harry and his friends had been able to read through it while they sat. Harry didn’t have an answer ready though because he had never tried curry before. Travis and Liam quickly made their choices but seeing Harry’s hesitance Viti asked a few probing questions to help him along.

“How are you with spicy food?” Viti asked.

“I don’t know I haven’t really tried any,” Harry said honestly. 

The Dursley’s mostly had British foodstuffs in their home so the spiciest thing he ever ate there were eggs with extra pepper. At Stonewall as well, most of the food was hearty stews, shepherd’s pie, or the occasional meatloaf, which, while tasty, never had very strong spices.

“In that case, why don’t I bring you a nice mild chicken curry, it is a great introduction for someone unfamiliar with Indian food and maybe, if you are a little daring, you can try one of the more exciting dishes later in the week.”

“Thank you,” Harry said sincerely.

After a few minutes, the three boys were served their steaming bowls of colourful curry, Harry’s was a bright yellow, Liams was more orange, while Travis’ was a deep red. Each bowl was also served with a side of rice and they were given a plate of piping hot naan bread to split. As Harry took his first bite he was shocked by the exotic flavour of the dish and he had to stop himself from eating it too quickly because it was still hot. It might have been because this was his first time trying it, but he could honestly say that it was the best curry that he had ever eaten.

As the three boys ate, they began to swap stories about how their summer breaks had been spent thus far. Liam was an only child with a single mother, so he said that most of his summer was spent at home reading while his mother was at work. He teased the other two boys with some knowledge about what plans he had for their next campaign when school started again but didn’t give them any other hint than that he had become very interested in books by Mary Shelley and Bram Stoker. Travis in turn talked about how he spent his summer with his brother working on an old motorbike and trying to get it to run. Travis’s brother was 5 years older than him and he planned to join the police academy the following year so they were using this opportunity to spend some time together before his brother got too busy. Harry then described his time at Stonewall during the summer. He mentioned the exercise he regularly did and added that Mr Atkins was very surprised about his rapid progress. He also told them about some of the other boys that were there for academic help starting to play football regularly in the evenings and how he had joined in. Other than that, however, most of his time was spent with Huan or reading in the library.

“There is one thing though,” Harry said as he finished describing his time at the school, “I have decided that after graduating I want to enlist in the Air Force.”

“What made you decide that?” Travis asked as he took another bite of naan.

“I don’t know,” Harry said, “I just think the idea of learning to fly sounds amazing.”

“Of course,” Liam said in agreement, “claiming the sky has always been one of man’s greatest dreams.”

“Whatever,” Travis said, rolling his eyes at Liam’s comment, “If that is what you want to do then good on you Harry.”

Eventually, the busy atmosphere of the restaurant died down and Nish came to join them at their table, snatching the last bit of naan that hadn’t been eaten yet as he sat.

“Phew,” Nish said tiredly, “glad that’s over. So what did I miss.”

“Nothing much,” Liam said, “We were just talking about what we did over the summer so far, basically the same stuff we talked about on the ride to pick up Harry.”

“Cool,” Nish said, “So what do you guys want to do today.”

“Hey,” a voice cut into the boy’s conversation, making them all look up and see the young Indian woman who had been waiting tables with Nish and his mother approach, “don’t forget Nish, you have clean up duty tonight after we close.” 

Now that Harry got a closer look at her it was easy to see the resemblance between her and her mother, removing all doubt that this was indeed Nish’s sister.

“Yeah, yeah, I remember Milana,” Nish said in a placating manner.

“Don’t try to talk your way out of it either,” Milana responded with a warning tone. “You may have friends visiting but it doesn’t remove your responsibilities.”

“We won’t let him,” Harry added, making her look at him. “Responsibility is important, we will make sure that he does it and even help out as repayment for your family welcoming us.”

The young woman smiled slightly at Harry’s declaration. “Well, it is good to see that my brother found a friend with a good head on his shoulders.” She said back.

“Y-yeah,” Travis suddenly interjected, “we all have good heads, we will make sure that Nish is on his best behaviour.”

Harry looked to Travis curiously and saw that the other boy’s eyes were glued to the older girl’s face, a smitten expression on his face.

‘Thanks,” Milana said, slightly taken aback by the sudden intrusion, then moved off to continue serving the few remaining customers.

“Dude,” Travis said, turning to Nish, “you never said your sister was so hot. We never got the chance to meet her last night because we arrived so late.”

“First off, eww,” Nish said in response, “I would never describe any of my family as hot and I ask that you back up. She is way out of your league.”

“Nope,” Travis said back, “It is decided, she and I are destined to be together. Say hello to your future brother-in-law Nish.”

In answer, Nish pelted Travis in the forehead with the rest of the naan he had been eating. The four boys then made their way back upstairs and decided to get their sleeping situation figured out in Nish’s room. There were still three beds from when Nish had to share the room with his brothers. There was a set of bunk beds which Nish and Harry decided to share. The third was given to Liam with Travis being banished to the pad on the floor for his inappropriate thoughts about Nish’s sister. Once that had been figured out the remainder of the afternoon was spent with the group playing cards and chatting amiably until 8:00 when the restaurant started closing down. The door wouldn’t be locked for a few more hours but they could begin cleaning now so that they didn’t have to work so late. As they worked and laughed, Harry couldn’t help but smile as his mind went back to that first day they had all met after he had come to Liam’s defence, when they were all assigned detention for being late to class, and a smile crept its way onto his face

* * *

Hermione’s cheeks were starting to sting from how widely she was smiling as she waited in her living room. Today was the day that she would get to meet up with her friends. They planned to spend two days at each of their homes starting with hers because Padma and Nevile were interested in spending some time in muggle London. They would then spend two days at Neville’s home, then the final two days at Padma’s. On the final day together they planned to do their shopping for the coming third year of Hogwarts. 

Hermione’s parents were almost as excited as she was. For all of the time that she had been in school, from primary school until now, Hermione had always struggled to make and keep friends. This was the first time that she would ever have friends over to their home for a visit and they had each heard so much about Padma and Neville that they could hardly wait to meet them in person. Even though they were excited, however, there was still a small amount of confusion regarding the specifics of the visit.

“So how are they getting here again? Shouldn’t we be waiting by the door?” Hermione’s father remarked.

“No Dad,” Hermione said, slightly exasperated as she had explained this twice already. “Neville’s grandmother was able to put in a request that our fireplace be attached to what is called the floo network. Think of it as similar to the wizard version of the underground, but instead of a train they magically allow you to travel from one fireplace to another.”

“Ok,” He responded slowly, “but why a fireplace, why not a closet or say... the back door.”

“Well,” Hermione said, her tone shifting to a more academic one that she usually used when discussing complex topics, “that is actually very interesting, you see the ritual of floo travel uses the natural occurring magical energy found in flames to establish the connection. Fire has long been known to hold powerful symbolic and magical significance so…”

“Thank you, Hermione,” Mrs Granger suddenly interjected, “but, as interesting as that is, I am afraid that most of it will probably go over our heads.”

Hermione flushed slightly at realizing she had been lecturing her parents about magic. It was  always somewhat frustrating that she never had anyone at home to engage in such conversations with. It was one of the reasons she was so excited to see Padma and Neville again. Suddenly the attention of the Granger family was grabbed by a whooshing sound from their fireplace and they turned to see the empty space filled with bright green flames. They stared transfixed for a moment, but were broken out of their amazement when a blond-haired youth stepped out of the dazzling fire, brushing soot from his shoulders. Neville was dressed in plain brown trousers and a blue button-up shirt. Hermione’s smile came back and she walked up to her friend excitedly.

“Neville, I am so glad you made it ok.”

As she got close she was slightly surprised to find that he had apparently grown in the few months that they had been separated as he was now at eye-level with her. He smiled as well at seeing her and responded.

“Hermione thank you so much for having me.”

His greeting pulled Hermione back to the present and she quickly grabbed the boy’s arm to pull him to her parents for introductions.

“Mom, Dad, I would like you to meet Neville. He was my first friend at school.”

Hermione’s mother smiled brightly at the boy, “Neville, a pleasure to meet you, my name is Jean.” 

They shook hands and then Neville turned to Hermione’s father. The man inspected Neville for a moment before extending his hand in greeting. 

“Daniel Granger,” he said, “Now excuse me for fulfilling my fatherly duties, but you and Hermione are just friends, correct?”

Neville and Hermione’s faces immediately bloomed with embarrassment.

“Dad!” Hermione said in shock.

Neville was silent before stammering out a response, “M-mr G-g-granger, as f-flattered as I w-would be, I d-d-do not have that k-kind of relationship with your d-daughter.”

Daniel was stern for a moment more before his face morphed into a smile as he spoke again, “Good answer young man. I am grateful that Hermione was able to find a good friend such as yourself.”

When he finished speaking Jean Granger gave him a swat on the arm. “Dan, that was a rather rude way to greet a guest in our home.”

“What?” He replied, “It was a legitimate question, I mean the boy is going to be staying the night for Pete’s sake.”

Any further banter was silenced as a second whoosh filled the room, and Padma walked through the new green flames, peering around the house curiously. She was dressed in a skirt and blouse with a small bag slung across her chest.

“Padma, it’s so good to see you again,” Hermione said, running up to her other friend.

“Hi Hermione, thank you for having me in your home,” Padma responded politely.

After a second round of introductions, the three friends were let loose to get situated and plan their time in muggle London.

“So what do you guys want to see while you are here?” Hermione asked. She was curious as to what would interest her pureblood friends about the muggle side of the world and how familiar they already were with it.

“Well honestly, I don’t know anything about muggle London,” Padma admitted. “While in England, my family stays mostly in the wizarding side of things, it is only in India that we spend any real time at muggle markets. I would love to get to see some museums and some of the more famous sights I have heard about.”

“I have spent a little more time around the muggle side of things so I honestly would just like to walk about and see what there is to see, but I would be fine with anything,” Neville admitted.

“Ok,” Hermione said after thinking for a bit, “how about today we go visit a shopping centre I know of nearby, then tomorrow we can start early and head into central London for the big stuff like Big Ben and the Museums.”

The two friends agreed, with the plan and prepared to go.

“Oh, I am sorry, it slipped my mind when you arrived, but where are your things?” Hermione asked as they were about to leave.

Both of her friends pulled shrunken trunks from their pocket and bag respectively. 

“It has a shrinking and featherlight enchantment pre-installed that I can control with a keyword and a tap so that I don’t set off the tracing charm put on underage wizard wands,” Neville explained. Padma confirmed that hers was similarly capable. So leaving their things in the room, the trio of friends went back downstairs and told the adults of their plans and after a few minutes of clarifying everything they were set loose with a few bills for pocket money to explore the town.

“Come on,” Hermione said, “we can catch a bus to Kentish Town. It is nearby and has a wonderful shopping centre for us to walk around in.”

* * *

“All right lads,” Nish said as he led the four friends down the street, “today you will be experiencing all the wonders that good old Kentish Town has to offer.”

“Really?” Harry asked sceptically.

“Of course,” Nish reassured, then he dropped his false bravado and spoke more normally, “ok no, but we will definitely have some fun and our first order of business involves you, Harry.”

Harry’s eyebrows rose in surprise as his three friends all focused on him.

“What did I do?” Harry asked suddenly.

“Well for starters,” Travis began, “we wanted to wish you a happy birthday.” As he said that Nish and Liam joined in as well. He also received a few pats on the back from each of them as they continued walking.

“We know it isn’t actually your birthday,” Liam explained, “but we figured that it is better late than never so we will be spending today celebrating it. The Heroes of Stonewall will never leave a member uncelebrated.”

Harry was stunned slightly at the new experience. While with the Dursleys, Harry’s birthday was never celebrated or even acknowledged. July 31st was just another day for him to do his chores and stay out of everyone’s way. By the time he had started attending Stonewall his birthday never even entered into his thoughts. It wasn’t until their second year together as friends that any of the other boys even brought up the issue, and he had explained his history with birthdays.

“Now,” Nish said, grabbing everyone’s attention once more, “to begin we will be getting you a present, and we figured that it is about time that you stopped bumming dice off of us whenever we play, so we have brought you here.”

Nish presented the building they were in front of with a flourish and Harry looked up to see a sign that read, “Rivendell Comics and Games.” What really caught Harry’s attention however was the banner under the sign that said, “Come try the hottest new game Magic: The Gathering!”

“What is this?” Harry asked confusedly.

“This,” Nish said as he put an arm around Harry’s shoulders, “is a shop owned by someone even nerdier than Liam, if you can believe it.” The other boy punched Nish’s arm playfully at the jape and explained himself.

“Nish told us about this place when we were talking in the car yesterday about what we could get you for a present. He bought his own dice here last summer.”

“Ok?” Harry said, “But what’s with the banner, is it a magic shop.”

“We have no idea,” Travis said, “Let’s go check it out.”

Placing his hands on Harry’s back, Travis pushed Harry forward into the store. Once inside Harry looked around to see the inside was papered with posters of movies and fantasy scenes. In one corner there was a cardboard cutout of someone in futuristic, green-painted armour with a t-shaped black visor. The roof was also covered with large graphics of different superheroes. Harry was unfamiliar with most of them, only able to vaguely identify some of the most popular like Superman and Batman. Looking to his friends to gauge their reactions Harry was unsurprised to see Liam looking around with sparkling eyes like a kid in a candy store. Nish and Travis on the other hand had much more muted excitement. Each of them looking around and occasionally locking onto something they must have been familiar with. Suddenly the boys heard a voice call out to them.

“Welcome to Rivendell Comics and Games, how can I help you,” It said amiably.

Harry looked at who had addressed them and saw that a man was standing behind the front counter looking at them with a smile on his face. He looked to be in his late twenties or early thirties and was slightly overweight with a scraggly beard. He was dressed casually in jeans and a shirt for what appeared to be a band of some sort.

“Yeah,” Travis said in response, “we are tired of our friend here always needing to use our dice when we play D&D so we are going to get him a pair of his own.”

“Great,” the man said, “if you are looking for dice they are in our game section in the back. Up in the front here is where we keep the comics. Feel free to check them out for something that might interest you.”

“Thanks,” Travis responded, then once more began pushing Harry toward the back. 

The movement broke Liam from his trance and as the group of friends moved through the store he started speaking excitedly.

“This place is amazing, I am so jealous that you live so close to it Nish.”

“You don’t have anything like this?” Nish asked back, “I figured that you did because you already had all the stuff for our games.”

“No,” Liam said, “the closest thing in my town is a book shop that carries some fantasy stuff. The shop owner had some catalogues so I was able to send away for the books and dice that I have.”

“I had to do the same thing,” Travis said as they walked.

“Well I guess there are some advantages to living in the big city then,” Nish said.

Soon they arrived in the gaming section and found sets of dice hanging on the wall. The prices ranged from about five pounds up to twenty, and thinking about his friends spending so much on him made Harry start to feel uncomfortable. Seeming to sense his discomfort Nish clapped a hand on his shoulder and said.

“Pick whichever ones you want Harry, we are all chipping in for this so don’t worry.”

Harry almost couldn’t hold in his joy at having such great friends. Turning to the wall he scanned through the available dice sets until he spotted one that he liked. They were grey with some speckles of brown and black. As he grabbed them Liam looked at them curiously, surprised that Harry hadn’t picked one of the more eye-catching sets.

“Why those ones Harry?” He asked.

“They remind me of Stonewall. That was the place where I met all of you so I am hoping they can bring me the same luck the school has,” Harry replied honestly and gave all of his friends a grateful smile. The three of them all returned it with smiles of their own.

“Well since those are one of the cheaper sets let’s also get you this to carry them in,” Nish said as he reached below the dice on the wall to where a pile of black drawstring bags were placed for carrying dice in. They were made of faux leather material with a cord as the string. Travis and Liam agreed and the group made their way back toward the counter to make their purchase. When the transaction was finalized Liam couldn’t help but ask about the banner outside the store. 

“So what is Magic: The Gathering?” he asked.

“I am so glad you asked.” the store clerk said as his face lit up with excitement. 

Reaching below the counter, he pulled out a small box and opened it to reveal a deck of cards with a brown background and the word “Magic” emblazoned across it. Spreading the cards out so that the boys could see they were amazed at the intricate artwork that each card showed.

“Magic is a brand new card game that was just released,” the clerk explained. “Earlier this summer wizards of the coast revealed it at Gen Con in the states. I got to try it out and I had so much fun that I bought a few cases of starter decks.” The store clerk explained the rules and demonstrated some of the features of the cards. The game seemed interesting to Harry and he would be willing to give it a shot. Before he could say anything though Travis spoke out.

“I don’t get it. Isn’t magic about casting spells, you know hocus pocus, abracadabra and all that. Why are there so many creature cards?”

“No, that isn’t magic,” Liam said in response. “That may be the system that characters in stories use to channel magic but if you look at the stories authors like Tolkien tell, magic is an ever-present aspect of the worlds that they create. All the creatures, people, and places in those stories are magic even the most humble of them. That is why magic is so great, you don’t have to be a wizard to benefit from it, just living in a world where magic exists makes your life magical.”

“Wow,” a female voice suddenly said, “I have never read anything written by Tolkien. What an interesting philosophy. Could you tell me the name of his treatise?”

The four friends and the shop owner turned around startled. They had been so absorbed in the game and Liam’s explanation that they hadn’t noticed the door opening and three new people entering the shop. The new arrivals were two girls and a boy who all looked about the same age as Harry and his friends.

* * *

Hermione fought the impulse to cover her face in shame, both at Padma’s question and at the fact that she was in this sort of store. She and her friends had been walking about the shopping district of Kentish Town and enjoying the sites. Her favourite thing about the day so far had been Padma and Neville’s reaction to everything around them. Padma and she had engaged in a very spirited discussion about how uniform the buildings were. In most magical communities the buildings were much more organic and nonsensical in form and function. Padma had been amazed that merely with the use of maths and science muggles had been able to accomplish many feats that were once the sole result of magic. 

Suddenly, her friends caught notice of a banner outside this shop proclaiming something to do with Magic. Hermione had been ready to just move on figuring that it was probably just some kind of illusion kit that was sold to children. But Neville and Padma had gotten excited about the prospect of seeing the muggle view of magic.

“I am going to be taking muggle studies next year Hermione,” Padma had explained, “I would love to see how they portray us to get a contrast for how the muggle world is portrayed in wizard academia.”

The argument had swayed Hermione to at least step into the shop and, as soon as she did, she felt embarrassed by what she saw. Hermione may love to read but she found fiction in all its forms pointless, particularly modern forms of fiction like comics. At least classical fiction had some substance, but she could not think of a single redeeming aspect of superhero stories. They were all childish and she was ashamed that people her age and older actually liked them. Regardless Padma was now apparently thinking that Tolkien was a scholar of magic, and while some would say that he was, Hermione felt she needed to step in to avoid a misunderstanding. Sidling up behind Padma, Hermione spoke quietly,

“Tolkien is an author of fiction he writes made up stories about magical worlds,” Hermione explained.

Instead of calming Padma down, as Hermione had hoped, her comment made the other girl only get more animated about the issue.

“That sounds so interesting, I wonder if he got anything right,” Padma whispered back before speaking more loudly to the boy who had been speaking at the counter. “Could you tell me more about the magic in the story you were talking about?”

Hermione sighed exasperatedly and turned to Neville only to find that he had wandered off into the store and was looking into the racks of comic books on display. 

“I am guessing you were dragged in here against your will.” A boy said to her, getting Hermoine’s attention. 

Turning, Hermione took stock of who had addressed her. It was a boy the same age as her, who stood slightly taller than she did. He had glasses that were in a rather poor condition, and his clothing, though clean, looked ill-fitting and worn. However, even though his outward appearance left much to be desired, he had an air of calm control that made him seem mature. He was thin but looked healthy with medium length, messy black hair that covered his forehead, and his eyes were a bright mesmerizing green colour, they honestly reminded Hermione of the magical green flames that her friends had come out of just this morning. 

“Yes,” Hermione answered hesitantly.

The youth smiled slightly and continued, “I am the same, my friends dragged me in here to get me a present.”

“Are you not a fan of fiction?” Hermione asked suddenly confused at why his friends would force him in here if he didn’t like it.

“I wouldn’t say that,” the boy said, “I am nowhere near as big of a fan as my friend Liam over there,” he pointed to the boy by the desk who was nervously talking to Padma, “but he introduced me to some stories that I found interesting. He explained to me once that fantasy is good for helping us face the big problems in real life because it personifies those problems into creatures like dragons and evil wizards and shows that, if we have a strong enough character, we can overcome them.”

Hermione’s head cocked at that explanation. It was an interesting way to view fiction that she had never thought of before. She wasn’t sure if she bought it, but it was a much better explanation for why you should like fiction than “it’s fun.”

“I am Harry by the way,” the boy finally introduced himself.

“Hermione,” Hermione responded.

“Pleasure to meet you,” Harry offered.

“Hey Harry,” one of the other boys at the counter suddenly said. There were two more that Hermione could see, one was a boy with brown hair who was taller and stockier than any of his friends and the other was about Harry’s height but of Indian descent, like Padma. He was the one who spoke. “The clerk is offering to let us try the game out at some tables in the back. As the birthday boy, you can decide if we do or not.”

Harry seemed to think about it for a bit then said, “Sure,”

In the next few minutes, Hermione found herself dragged along as well. Padma had wanted to give it a try, so Hermione and Neville followed along and now the newly formed group of seven was seated in pairs to play, except for Hermione. she had chosen to sit out, not feeling a desire to take part in the game. She did however have a deck of her own to look through. The rules of the game appeared complex so she took the time to read the included instruction sheet and perused the impressive art printed on the cards.

* * *

Harry looked over the cards at his disposal trying to calculate his best move. His current opponent was the boy named Neville who had come in with Hermione and Padma. After a few rotations between playing partners, Harry had been introduced to each of the three friends. Hermione had even joined in on the games after a while. He peeked over to the bushy-haired girl and saw her carefully reading the cards in her hand as she thought about her own next move. He was glad that he had spoken to her. She had obviously been uncomfortable, so he had tried to help her acclimate to the unfamiliar space by copying Mr Thomas’ calm demeanour. It had been difficult but he had been able to ignore his usual nervousness at speaking with new people to help her out. Now she seemed to be getting along well with him and his friends just like her two companions. 

Padma was a very outgoing and curious person, so she had been spending much of her time asking questions about the most random of things. It started with her interviewing Liam all about the fantasy genre. When she had faced off against Travis, however, he had mentioned that he was learning about mechanics by helping his brother fix a motorbike and she was now interrogating him all about how internal combustion engines worked. Travis did his best, but he wasn’t able to answer all of her technical questions. 

The final member of the trio, Neville, was a quiet boy. He reminded Harry somewhat of Liam when they had first met with his soft-spoken mannerisms. Harry did his best to engage him in conversation and they had surprisingly found common ground on the topic of gardening, something Harry was familiar with from his time doing chores for the Dursleys. Though while he had a passing knowledge of the topic, Neville was obviously very invested in horticulture if the amount of information he had about it was anything to go on. Harry quickly realized why he had chosen to play with a green-coloured deck. And unfortunately, his cards were a good counter to Harry’s red deck. While Harry had a couple of strong monsters out on the field, Neville had a large number of weaker creatures that he could use to prevent himself from being damaged and thanks to the regeneration ability they kept getting put back on the field. Luckily for Harry, he had just drawn a card that would change the game for him.

“I spend a mana to play chaoslace, and I turn one of your lands red,” Harry said, revealing the card.

With that done, Harry’s creatures that had mountainwalk were now unblockable. The game went on a few more rounds, but in the end, Harry was just able to eke out a win thanks to that lucky draw. When that round of games ended the seven teens noticed the time and decided to part ways.

“Well, Harry,” Neville said as the kids were packing the decks back into the boxes they had been stored in. “it was a pleasure meeting you and your friends, I wish you a happy birthday.”

Harry blushed in embarrassment. Hermione, Neville and Padma had heard what Nish said at the front counter and they had assumed Harry’s birthday was today. He didn’t see a point in correcting them, it wasn’t a lie because he and his friends were celebrating his birthday today even if the actual date had been a few weeks past.

“Thank you, Neville, I hope you and your friends enjoy the rest of your day as well.”

With that, friendly farewells were shared all around and the two groups left the store. Harry was happy to have met the trio of friends. It was nice to know that there were pleasant people outside of Stonewall High School.

* * *

“What a pleasant group,” Hermione said as she and her two friends left the store.

“Yes, I found them fascinating,” Padma said as she placed two new decks of cards in her purse. She had brought along some muggle money just in case she wanted to make some purchases and she found the card game to be so novel that she had bought two decks so that she could show her family.

“Did either of you think that Harry seemed familiar?” Neville asked absentmindedly, surprising his friends.

“No,” Hermione answered, “did you?”

“I don’t know,” Neville said, “there was just something about him that reminded me of something that I can’t put my finger on.”

“Who knows,” Padma said in a mysterious voice, “maybe that was the long lost Harry Potter, living an unassuming life amongst the muggles.”

The comment made the trio of friends chuckle as they walked down the street before they changed the topic to what they wanted to do for lunch.

* * *

After leaving the game shop Harry and his friends made their way to the local arcade where Nish used a portion of the money that his parents had saved up for the group to buy them all tokens for the games. They played for several hours, then as the light of the day started to fade they began the trek back to Nish’s home.

“Guys,” Harry said as they walked, “Thank you so much for today. I have always wondered what it would feel like for someone to celebrate the fact that I was born. You have finally given me that.” Harry’s friends were quiet for a moment after his earnest words, then each of them spoke sincerely.

“Harry, on that first day at school I was really nervous about what kind of people I would meet. You showed me that I could meet good people anywhere, I am so grateful that you became my friend.” Nish said first.

“Yeah, you stood up for me when no one else in the cafeteria did,” Liam added. “You proved from the first day that we met that I could count on you, and that means so much to me.”   


There was a moment of silence before, finally, Travis spoke, “Harry, before I met all of you, I am not proud to say it, but in a lot of ways I was as bad as Wiggins. That is why I ended up at Stonewall. You showed me that I could be a better person and that the ideas that the headmasters talked about at the opening ceremony could be followed. I owe you a whole lot more than you realize.”

Harry, Nish, and Liam were slightly shocked by Travis’s confession. All three of them had been the victim of bullying at one time or another and to hear that Travis had been a perpetrator was new information for them. But Harry recognized that Travis truly regretted his past so he stepped forward and clapped the other boy on the shoulder and the other two followed him soon after. They all shared a smile and came together in a group hug. When they separated Liam spoke again,

“Come on Harry, you are the whole reason the Heroes of Stonewall are a thing. There is no way we wouldn’t celebrate you.”

With that, the group of friends made it the rest of the way back to Nish’s home where Harry was greeted by one more surprise in the form of a large dinner prepared by Nish’s parent’s and a cake with the words “Happy Birthday Harry” piped out on top. The remainder of the night was spent in jovial company with his friends and when the candles were lit and Harry was told to make a wish all Harry could think of was,

“How could I want anything more than this.”


End file.
